


Fake News

by Whinnie



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Office, Asian-American Character, Bisexual Female Character, Coffee, Coffee Shops, F/F, F/M, First Impressions, Friends to Lovers, Half-Asian, Hapas, Ramen, Self-Esteem Issues, Startup, Tech Startup, West Coast Tech, bisexual Maka, imposter syndrome, resbang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-12 02:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17459126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whinnie/pseuds/Whinnie
Summary: Maka's life is all work and no play. What happens when her new coworker Soul tries to change that?— tech startup / office au, for ResBang 2018





	1. lunch

**Author's Note:**

> MAN, THIS FIC WAS A STRUGGLE TO WRITE!!!  
> more notes found in other chapters and at the very end, but first, LOTS OF THANKS to the following people:
> 
>   * to **[KARIN848](http://karin848.tumblr.com/)** , for being such a supportive ResBang partner, finding my fic interesting enough to claim in the first round, and drawing an AMAZING piece of hot art for me to share alongside this story (which you can find in chapter 4!) 
>   * to **[soundsouleater](http://simply-veva.tumblr.com/)** , for being the very first beta reader on this fic, providing SO MUCH emotional support as we both slaved over our Resbangs together, and giving me energy and encouragement all the way to the very end! _(read her ResBang 2018 entry[here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17111519/chapters/40242449))_
>   * to **Jordan** , my IRL friend, for supporting my endeavours in fandom (no matter how wild), leaving me all of the non-constructive comments, and always being down to play Path of Exile during my writing “breaks”, LMFAO
>   * to **[marsh of sleep](http://marshofsleep.tumblr.com/)** , for talking me out of dropping out of ResBang before the first check-in even happened lol, providing much needed feedback and insight on some of the more serious topics covered in this fic, and giving me tips on how to properly curl my hair lel. _(view their ResBang 2018 art[here](http://marshofsleep.tumblr.com/post/181144146989/heres-my-art-for-sandmancircuss-2018-resbang))_
>   * to **[sojustifiable](http://sojustifiable.tumblr.com/)** , for always pointing out my longass sentences, helping me with crucial plot decisions in the last 25% of the fic, and agreeing that bubble tea is the best thing ever! _(view her ResBang 2018 fic[here](http://sojustifiable.tumblr.com/post/181721431144/marked-in-constellation) and art [here](http://sojustifiable.tumblr.com/post/181984149339/found-it-once-youll-find-it-again))_
>   * to everyone on the Grigori Wings Discord server, for EVERYTHING!!! seriously i stan the most supportive, welcoming, MAJORLY TALENTED fandom ever. words cannot express how grateful i am for all the times you let me bounce my ideas off of y’all, rant about my real life issues, and just chill with all you cool kids ♥ _(you can learn more about the community[here](https://grigoriwings.jcink.net/))_
> 

> 
> **and of course, thank YOU for reading! I hope you all enjoy this beast of a fic!**

_“This is looking to be a great start to the week,”_ Maka thinks drily.

It’s 10:30am on a Monday and she sighs dejectedly, slumping over her seat. Frowning at her monitor, she deletes the sentence she just wrote, types in a few words, and then backspaces it all again before letting out a small whine.

The only good thing about this situation is the fact that she doesn’t necessarily have to bottle up her angst. _“Ah, the perks of working in a startup where appearances don’t matter,”_ she muses.

“Alright, let us know if you have any further questions or concerns! Have a great day!” From the cubicle on her left, Tsubaki promptly ends her support call as cheery as always before turning towards her and concernedly asking, “Maka-chan, are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just…” Maka feels a forest looming in her head, burying the right words with cold wet leaves and tangling her thoughts tangled amidst thick branches – she feels tempted to press her hands into her eyes, but doing so would smudge her makeup so she stops herself. Instead she gets to her feet and simply says, “Need more coffee. Wanna take a walk to the kitchen with me?”

The two girls chatter idly as they make their way across the office. The cubicle walls are partly transparent and only a bit shorter than Maka’s height, to provide a fine balance between open concept and personal space, and there are a few spots where the desks are completely unoccupied, including around the corner where her department sits. Marie had told her that it’s because Shinigami-sama, their CEO, is planning on really scaling up the company and hiring more employees soon, but Maka likes how the extra surrounding space gives her more room to do what she has to.

The kitchen bustles with activity as people get their morning caffeine fix. Maka clutches her favourite mug – which features a large crescent moon sporting a twisted grin, next to block text that says, “I’ve got 99 souls but a witch ain’t one” – and exchanges greetings with a few of their coworkers as she waits her turn for the coffee pot. Meanwhile, Tsubaki puts the kettle on for tea, and as she waits for it to boil she turns towards Maka and asks, “So how’s your morning going so far?”

“Meh,” Maka shrugs and takes a sip of her coffee, hoping on the off chance that this time it’ll taste decent; she usually likes it untouched but the beans the office provides aren’t so great for black coffee. “I’m getting faster at writing things with fewer revisions, but it still doesn’t feel like it’s fast enough.” She sighs. “I seriously don’t know if I’ll be able to finish all these requested articles before the deadline this time.”

“Hmmm.” Tsubaki frowns. “Well Maka, you’re a great technical writer and you always do such good work! If it’s time you’re worried about, I’m sure you can go to Marie and she can give you an extension.”

“Maybe.” Maka adds a little sugar to her cup, trying to replicate the “sweet spot” that her first coffee from earlier in the day had. It’s true that Marie, the manager of the client outreach team that she and Tsubaki are a part of, is reasonable and has said that she’s more than willing to vouch for her on things like this, but Maka hates being the weakest link. “I don’t wanna be that person though, you know?” she tells Tsubaki with a small smile; the coffee doesn’t taste exactly the same but, well, it’s close enough.

“Oh, Maka.” Tsubaki looks at her meaningfully and says, “You could never be that person. We all know that you always strive to do the best that you can, and sometimes things just happen outside of anyone’s control. You should take an extension if you need it.”

“Thanks, Tsu. I will,” she responds, although it’s more because it’s the expected thing to say and not a suggestion she might actually consider. She knows Tsubaki means what she says, and even though Maka has only known her since she started working at Shinigami Software Labs a few months ago, she can tell that Tsubaki is genuinely kind-hearted and empathetic, which is the complete opposite of what she could say about anyone from her previous job. At the same time though, something about Tsubaki’s words make her feel a little uncomfortable, as if she’s saying them not necessarily because they’re true but simply because they’ll make Maka feel better.

Before Maka can change the topic, a loud “NOOOOOOOOOOO!” comes from the rec room leading to the other side of the kitchen. Maka thinks she knows exactly who the voice belongs to, but she and Tsubaki still share a glance as they hurry over. However when they enter, she realizes there’s no need for concern – it’s only BlackStar and Patty on opposite sides of the ping pong table, and judging from BlackStar’s reaction, they’re in the middle of a game and Patty is handing his ass to him.

“Jeez, could you be any louder,” Maka grumbles, wondering how BlackStar hasn’t ever been told off yet, or maybe someone had tried – like her – and failed because they couldn’t get through his thick skull. She sometimes feels that if BlackStar wasn’t such an amazing programmer, he’d be out the door already because no one would be able to handle him. In fact, she’s still surprised that when he’d referred her to the company, people had taken either of them seriously.

“Excuse me – IMPORTANT match happening here,” he fires back at her, getting ready to serve the ball. “I have the right to be able to express myself however I wish during my comeback!”

“Oh please, you lost the last two matches and the score’s still 18-2,” Patty retorts. “Get rekt.”

As the ball resumes bouncing between the two, Maka shakes her head, says goodbye to Tsubaki – who decides to watch the rest of the game – and heads back to her desk. She frowns as she jiggles her mouse and the words – _her_ words, amateurish and inadequate – appear back on the screen, reminding her of her previous struggle and the forest from which it seems she can never fully escape.

Maka gives a deep sigh, suddenly very conscious of how small she feels in her chair, then squares her shoulders after a minute. There’s no point in dwelling too much on the fact that she’s always been subpar, she supposes; after all, there’s too much shit to do and these manuals won’t write themselves. She takes another sip of her coffee, slowly pops her headphones onto her ears, and gets back to work.

* * *

Two hours pass by before Maka resurfaces to the world and realizes she’s getting hungry.

She kind of wishes she could continue working now that she’s in the zone, but she can feel her focus starting to wane, and she knows from past experience that if she doesn’t get some food soon, her productivity will exponentially decrease.

She takes off her headphones and meanders over to the kitchen. She’s got leftovers from last night so she won’t have to go out and buy lunch, which is a good thing because she’s planning on eating at her desk so she has as much time as possible to finish.

“We’ve got a decent variety of drinks and snacks so help yourself to whatever you like, and if there’s something you’d like us to have on hand, just let me know,” she hears as she approaches the kitchen. She turns the corner and sees Liz, their office manager, standing next to an unfamiliar person with distinctly white hair. She wonders if he’s a new hire – usually new employees get introduced to each person in the office as they’re given their tour, but perhaps she’d been so into the zone that her introduction had been skipped over.

“Oh, and this is Maka!” Liz beams as she walks into the room. Yep, Maka thinks, he is definitely a new hire, but as he turns towards her she somehow feels a little intimidated. “Maka, meet Soul – he’s one of our new devs on the backend team starting today.”

“Nice to meet you,” he tells her, his voice quiet yet assertive, holding his hand out. She grasps it – it’s firm – and smiles, saying, “Nice to meet you too!” but he doesn’t say anything after that. Now that she’s looking directly at him, she thinks that he looks a little bored – his dull red eyes only adding to that impression – and before she can keep the thought from taking shape, her usual “men are trash” mantra pops up and she wonders whether he’s the type of person who’s too lazy to even comment on his code properly.

She stops herself, knowing that it’s an unfair judgment to make when she doesn’t know him at all, especially when he’s the “new kid on the block” and she’s the one familiar with their surroundings. _“Maybe he’s just overwhelmed,”_ she thinks, remembering back to her own first day and how it had been a lot to take in – being handed her key card and work laptop by Marie, attending her first training session with Tsubaki, going around the office and being introduced to everyone one by one. How she had felt excited at the prospect of her new teammates being “kickass” (as per BlackStar’s testimony) and not cutthroat or brutal like at her old job. How she had also felt very, very nervous that she would be fired once the company realized it had made a mistake in bringing her on.

She swallows with the relief that it hasn’t happened… yet.

“Well, enough about that,” Liz says, and Maka belatedly realizes that the office manager has been talking this entire time and she has missed all of it. Thankfully the next thing she says is something that doesn’t necessarily require further context, as Liz turns to her and asks, “Maka, you drink a lot of coffee, right? Maybe you can show Soul how to use the espresso machine some time.”

“Sure.” She gives him a close-lipped smile that he returns, but she can’t help but think that it looks superficial on him, and she wonders if it looks just as fake on her. “It is a pain in the butt to use at first, but once you see how it’s done it’s pretty straightforward.” Then, because something about it just makes her want to wipe that smile off his face, she asks, “How do you usually drink your coffee, Soul?”

He shrugs. “About regular, with some milk and sugar. It changes from time to time though. What about you?”

Her response is dry and immediate, the punchline practiced but the meaning genuine. “Black. Like my soul.”

Somehow this causes him to chuckle, and when he smiles again it actually reaches his eyes and she doesn’t feel as daunted by his presence. Meanwhile, Liz just shakes her head and says, “Well, glad to see you both have the same sense of humour – I have no idea how you can stomach that shit,” and Maka simply grins proudly.

“Anyway,” Liz takes a glance at her watch and then turns to Soul, who has returned to quietly brooding and avoiding further eye contact, and says, “let’s finish getting you set up. See you around, Maka!”

“See you! Hope you have a great first day here, Soul!” She smiles at him and he nods back silently, tilting his head up at her like a silent “cool” guy, before following after Liz. As he brushes directly past her and as the space between them closes to nothing, she thinks she feels something change, either in the air or within her – but just as quickly, it vanishes before she can analyze it too deeply.

Maka looks after him and wonders if she’s going insane, but then shrugs and stalks off to grab her lunch.

* * *

The first time she sees him after hours, it’s 6pm on a Monday.

And what a Monday it’s been. Marie has put her on a project that involves redoing the copy for a new module on their site, and she’s also kept busy with helping a swamped Tsubaki in the afternoon with support tickets. Not that Maka really minds; in a startup, it’s normal to take on other duties and projects beyond what’s listed on your job description, and providing technical support is something she finds rather easy compared to the actual work she’s supposed to do. Plus, even though Maka tends to come in as early as 8:30 or 9am, she doesn’t mind working a bit late since it tends to be quieter in the office.

In fact, it’s so quiet that Maka is certain that everyone has gone home already. Although the norm in startup culture leans towards long work hours and “living at the office”, people at this company are pretty good about listening to Shinigami-sama when he talks about the importance of work-life balance and not thinking about your job beyond your allotted 8 hours a day. Plus Mondays are already hard enough, and even the other devs who come in later than 9am tend to pack up early.

And yet, Maka can’t help the constant thoughts swirling around her head about how to work harder and get better and hustle faster and keep putting out awesome results, lest she gets trapped in the forest that is her complicated mind, and people suddenly realize she’s not as competent as she makes herself out to be. Not to mention that she always strives to do the best she can, so that at the very least when she inevitably falls short she’ll still end up alright.

She tries to ignore the nagging voice in her head telling her that’s not true, reminding her of how every time she’s done that so far she’s still ended up a failure.

Before she can get sucked any further into her thoughts, she catches a sound from across the room, and then a shock of white hair pops up behind a cubicle wall. Her heart races and for a second she wonders if she’s somehow caught up in an office space variation of the zombie apocalypse, before she suddenly remembers it’s just her new colleague. Thank goodness she hasn’t been singing out loud or doing anything else to embarrass herself.

She watches Soul as he stands up and bends his head over his desk, looking like he’s putting his things away. She hasn’t spoken to him at all after their initial introduction about a month ago, despite the promise to teach him how to use the coffee machine. He’s one of the quieter devs who doesn’t really talk with anyone aside from the people on his team, even in a group setting such as in the kitchen at lunchtime, and his desk is far enough out of the way that she doesn’t have much of a reason to go near it.

As if summoned by her thoughts, he suddenly looks up, straight at her, and she flushes. She considers just looking back down quickly at her screen and pretending that she totally wasn’t creeping up on him, but instead she gives him a small smile, trying to play off the fact that she was watching him.

She’s almost embarrassed, until he flashes a quick smile back.

Maka is, to be quite honest, shook. She hasn’t seen Soul much around the office, but every time she has, it’s been with resting bitch face at best and at worst a genuine scowl. That, plus his intimidating demeanour and his near silence in the presence of others, had made her completely forget about that very first smile he had given her on his very first day. She was sure that he was either extremely introverted to the point of being antisocial or a pretentious, arrogant asshole who could simply care less about other people.

And yet, that smile now makes her wonder about her original assumptions.

Soul then walks past her area of the office towards the exit, and as he passes by her, he lifts a hand and loudly says, “Have a good night. Don’t stay too late.”

Then he’s gone and she wonders if their interaction ever happened at all.

* * *

It must have happened, though, because it occurs a few more times. She surmises that Soul must work late two or three times a week – not that she’s actually counting, though – because that’s about how often they run into each other outside typical work hours. He always acknowledges her, whether it be with a glance or a nod or a “Have a good night”.

One late afternoon as the autumn sun is setting, Maka squints at her screen, preparing some materials for an upcoming training session, when she hears a quiet, “Hey.” Her eyes dart up and meet Soul’s, and for the first time ever she realizes that they’re a deep shade of red.

“Hi!” She forces a small smile, wondering how she hadn’t noticed his approach and therefore not anticipating the sudden social interaction. She must’ve been super focused on her work. “What’s up?” she asks more cheerfully, giving a small stretch. She figures that he’s heading out since he’s wearing his jacket, a black leather one that matches his dark blue jeans and the sleek laptop bag hanging off his shoulder.

“Sorry if I’m bugging you,” he says, and she thinks he sounds rather sheepish. “I would’ve messaged you on Deathchat first but it said you were on Do Not Disturb mode.” Maka’s eye twitches a little and she wants to ask what the words ‘do not disturb’ actually mean to him – especially on their workplace’s internal communication tool – but then he quickly continues, “I just wanted to drop this off on my way out,” before tossing a small object onto her desk.

She glances at it and realizes it’s a plain granola bar. “What’s this?” she asks, picking it up.

“Just a little something to carry you through to dinner.” He shrugs. “I got an extra from the kitchen earlier that I was gonna save for tomorrow, but it looked like you could use it now. After all, it’s been a while since lunchtime and it’s hard working on an empty stomach, right?”

For the second time ever, Maka is shook, and it’s all because of him. “Wow. Thank you,” she says, touched that someone would ever consider doing that for her.

“Don’t mention it.” Soul smirks but she thinks now that there’s not so much arrogance in it, and she realizes for the first time ever that his teeth are jagged and razor sharp, but she doesn’t feel as intimidated anymore. It feels like he’s about to say something else, but then he simply walks off, waves, and cranes his neck to call out, “Remember, don’t stay too late. See you tomorrow.”

“Thanks! See ya!” she yells back, her eyes trained on him until he walks out the front door and she can’t see him anymore, before glancing back at the granola bar. “Original, huh?” she quietly muses out loud at the flavour printed on the wrapper, slowly ripping it open and taking a tentative bite.

She’s not sure why, but she thinks that somehow it’s one of the best granola bars she’s ever tasted.


	2. dinner

The next day, Maka sends Soul the first ever Deathchat message between them. _“Thanks again for the snack yesterday,”_ she writes. _“It was good! Let me know if I can ever return the favour.”_

His response comes a minute later. _“dont worry bout it,”_ followed shortly by a, _“u stayin late tonight too?”_

_“Yeah, I think so. You too?”_

_“nah not tonight,_ ” he replies. “ _got something else to do. but probz will stay some other time this week.”_ A few seconds pass, and Maka shifts windows to address another notification on her screen, thinking that’s the end of the conversation.

She notices the red “1” prominently displayed on the Deathchat icon a few minutes later, and as she brings the messenger window back into focus she’s surprised to see that Soul has sent another message: “ _u’ll just have to return the favour next time_ ,” ending with a thumbs up emoji.

“ _N_ _ext time? Sure, but when’s that going to be LOL_ ,” she quips, amazed at the number of words they’ve exchanged in the last two days. She wonders if he means what he says and if he’ll actually hold her accountable for this, or whether this is just another empty promise that people make for the sake of being civil and social.

He seems to be leaning towards the latter, because he says, “ _could be tmrw. but def this week. bring your best snacks. i’ll look fwd to it._ ”

She chuckles at the surprisingly firm tone – just like his handshake, she suddenly remembers – and she’s a little put off but also a little awed. _“Okay. Any preferences?”_ Then, remembering the flavour he’d chosen the first time, she asks, _“You like original?”_

 _“i‘m not picky,”_ comes the reply.

 _“Alright then, prepare to be surprised,_ ” she writes back, and it sounds legit, like the promise has weight and meaning, and that it will be kept.

* * *

 

Maka now looks more forward to working in the evenings.

She’s always kind of enjoyed it, what with less people being in the office and it being quieter, particularly after BlackStar goes home. Plus, it’s a lot easier to focus when people aren’t constantly popping by her desk or messaging her or even making a commotion elsewhere in the room, which tends to happen every so often.

The only exception to that, it seems, is Soul.

They see each other quite frequently in the evenings now, and she surmises that his probation is up and he’s switched his work hours to start later and end later in the day, like some of the other devs. Despite the minor difference in their schedules, it seems like some sort of invisible wall has broken down after that first after-hours encounter and Deathchat message, and she and Soul now talk on a semi-regular basis. Even though the majority of their interactions tend to be short and consist of exchanging snacks and insignificantly chatting about what they’re currently working on via online messenger, she doesn’t mind – he’s just a colleague, after all.

Today it’s her turn to visit his desk on her way out. Normally she stops by before packing up, but today she’s in a rush. Quite honestly, she’s close to running late and doesn’t really have time to spare, but she can’t help how much of a ritual it’s become. Even on a day when she does leave relatively on time, it feels wrong to not say some sort of goodbye to him, be it in person or online.

She wonders how it all came to this.

Soul slides his headphones off to rest around his neck as he sees her approach. “Heading out now?” he asks. She simply nods and hands him the orange she picked up from the kitchen when she’d gone to wash her mug.

“Aw man, another healthy snack?” he jokingly grumbles. Maka rolls her eyes.

“Are you complaining?” she jabs back playfully. Contrary to what she saw during that first evening they talked, she has come to learn that Soul has a massive liking for junk food – in fact, she thinks he likes it a little too much, although he argues otherwise.

“Nah, I’ll take what I can get,” he smirks, and she resists the urge to roll her eyes again as he places it on his desk and makes no move towards actually eating it. “Where you going?” he asks more seriously, angling his head up to face her.

“Just for dinner. A friend is picking me up,” she replies curtly. “Are you leaving soon too?” she asks before he has the chance to follow up with more questions.

“Nah, can’t really afford to.” He sighs, drumming his fingers on his desk and glancing back at his monitor. “Still have a lot of code to review.”

“That’s too bad.” She frowns as a sign of empathy, then hoists her bag back onto her shoulder where it was about to slide off.

“Ehh, it is what is is.” Then, looking straight at her, he says point blank, “Maybe we can grab dinner together some time too.”

Maka blinks, slightly caught off guard. She’s been invited to a few after-work socials before by BlackStar (which she’d never attended, as those tend to consist of mostly devs as well as a decent amount of drinking), but this is the first time she’s been asked to do something with a colleague one-on-one.

“Sure,” she says noncommittally, which is a lot easier than explaining that she appreciates the invitation but prefers to keep her personal and professional life separate. “Anyway, I’ve gotta run now, but good luck with that review!” She turns away towards the exit.

“See ya,” she hears, and as she glances back she sees Soul’s raised hand in a wave and then, before she knows it, he’s leaned back in towards his screen as if she was never there.

As Maka heads down the stairwell towards the exit of the building, she dwells on Soul’s last request. For some reason it makes her feel a little odd – not because Soul is a creep or anything for suggesting it (or at least, she doesn’t think he is), but more so because even though she had never considered it before, she now realizes that she wouldn’t really mind it, despite her eternally held belief that “men are trash”. Briefly, she wonders what Soul is like outside of work. What does he like to do in his spare time? Does he keep to himself just as much as he does in the office? Where did he like to go to eat?

 _“Snap out of it,”_ she scolds herself. Okay, maybe he is one of the few decent guys out there, and maybe she can actually consider some of her coworkers to also be friends – especially since BlackStar actually was her friend before they started working together – but she doesn’t see much point in trying to be all chummy outside of business hours. That means more chances for a conflict to occur, or for her to trust the wrong person, and even if it’s over something that doesn’t have anything to do with work, things don’t exist in a bubble – the chance of it affecting her professional reputation or relationships in the office is too high.

Just like at her last job. It’s dangerous.

As Maka finally reaches the ground floor, she resolves herself to reinforcing these subtle boundaries between her and her coworkers. And yet, as she walks out into the cool autumn air alone, she can’t help but wish that she didn’t have to put so much space between herself and everyone else.

* * *

Perhaps inevitably, the space between her and Soul closes, and when it does it’s 7:30pm on a Thursday and Maka wants to bash her head in on her desk.

She’s alone in the office, since even the devs who like to work late have left long ago in order to continue working from home. Maka doesn’t really like working from home though; sure, it’s comfy and she doesn’t have to walk in the cold, but it’s not like her commute is that long or unpleasant anyway and she finds that she has a hard time concentrating in her apartment.

It’s just another thing that keeps her personal and work life as separate as possible, anyhow.

Maka anxiously taps her fingers on her keyboard in deep thought. She’s reviewing technical patch notes and doing some of her own quality assurance testing so she can write up simpler changelogs for clients, but some of the cases are a lot more complicated than she expected. Realistically, she should just go home and finish the tests tomorrow, especially since she came in right at 9am and her empty stomach has been making its displeasure apparent, but she just feels _so close_ to being done...

Before she knows it, there’s a quiet _beep_ that comes from the front door as someone unlocks it, and then it’s swinging open and Soul is walking into the office. She wonders what he’s doing here at this hour – she had seen him leaving earlier than usual today, and although he now finishes later than she typically does, she’s noticed that recently he’s coming in at around the same time she does.

He heads for his desk but as he takes a look around and sees her, his eyes widen. Maka gives a small wave, and although he doesn’t deviate from his route, she gets the feeling that he’s going to detour to her after he stops by his desk. Sure enough, he grabs something and turns back around, heading straight for her and bypassing the front door completely.

“Dude, what,” he says. “You’re still here? It’s really late, you should go home.”

Despite her surprise at this sudden turn of events, the response comes automatically enough that she’s saying it before even fully thinking of it: “First of all, I’m not a dude, and secondly, I will! I’m gonna leave right after I wrap this up–” Her stomach chooses this perfect time to interrupt with an incredibly loud growl, as if to say, _“This is what you get for forgetting about me,”_ in direct protest of her lies.

Soul bursts out into laughter, a sound she sort of marvels at because even though they’ve been talking regularly for a while now, it’s the first time she’s heard it and it’s not at all condescending or snarky like she expected it to be. “You haven’t eaten dinner yet?” he asks. Then, a beat later he says, “I was just gonna grab some food actually. You wanna tag along?”

Maka pauses and thinks again of the fine line between her personal and professional lives which seems to have gotten blurrier recently. Then again, it’s not like she has any other plans for the evening aside from buying her own dinner on her way home and then basically going to bed in an empty apartment.

And maybe, just maybe, Soul isn’t just a colleague to her anymore.

“Alright,” she finally says, resigned to making him another exception in her life. “Where to?”

* * *

They end up walking to the local ramen joint for some hot noodles and soup. As soon as they finish ordering, Soul leans back with one arm over the back of his chair, takes a sip of his green tea, and asks, “So, where was the fire?”

“What do you mean?” Maka answers slowly, unsure of whether she’s hearing him right. Her usual warning system seems broken – despite being one-on-one with him outside of the office for once, she doesn’t feel any red flags or the usual discomfort she gets from being alone with a stranger, especially when that person is a guy.

“You know, the emergency,” he drawls, picking up his chopsticks from the table. “Damage control? That’s the reason you stayed behind so late, right? Especially considering I came in at 9am today and you looked like you started at 8.”

“There was no emergency,” she slowly responds, surprised that he takes that much notice of her. He blinks at her in what she thinks is disbelief and she pauses, partly to sip from her own tea and partly to consider if she should continue, before deciding to go ahead and finally say, “I just had a lot of extra stuff I wanted to finish. And actually I came in at around 8:30, FYI.”

“Maka, that’s not cool, man,” Soul sighs, and suddenly she regrets divulging that fact. Even though he’s brought up her tendency to work long hours before, this is the first time he’s addressed it directly and she feels personally called out. “That’s how you get burned out,” he adds, clicking his chopsticks together as if mimicking picking something up.

“Oh, yeah?” She bristles a little; she is not in the mood for a lecture on her work habits. “Then what about you?” she fires back, placing her cup on the table with just a little more force than might be necessary.

He raises his eyebrows a little, which makes her feel just a bit smug, and asks, “What about me?”

“You’ve been working pretty late too! And,” she adds in quickly as he opens his mouth to protest, “don’t think I haven’t noticed how sometimes you slip in at around the same time as I do.” She frowns. “What’s up with that?”

Soul puts his hands up as if surrendering. “Alright, you got me,” he sighs with a deadpan expression. “I’m a massive workaholic that ironically gives up way too quickly and still doesn’t know how to take it easy, and sometimes being at the office and doing work is easier than dealing with all the other shit in my life.”

Maka waits a beat to see if he says anything else, but he only takes another sip of tea. She blinks. “Are you serious?” she finally asks, unsure of whether he’s being sarcastic or not.

“Sorry, I guess that was a little too much to unload all at once, huh?” He chuckles. “Let’s assume that everything I just said was a joke, and really the real reason is that the end of dev cycle is approaching and I’ve been slacking off.” He smirks, and she notices for the second time that his teeth are sharp and jagged, matching his heavy words.

“Wait a second,” she abruptly says, although she’s not sure why she’s saying it, and she feels his eyes watch her closely. Somehow he still intrigues her, and she doesn’t know why but she doesn’t stop to question it. “Let’s assume that I don’t get the ‘joke’,” she continues slowly, “so you’ll have to explain it to me. What do you mean you give up too quickly and don’t know how to take it easy?”

He shrugs. “It’s exactly what it sounds like,” he replies. “It feels like no matter how much I try at things, I’m just never good enough.”

“Never good enough,” Maka echoes, and it’s like he’s taken the words straight from her mouth. She feels something familiar shift deep within her and wonders if it’s the forest that is her twisted mind, getting ready to remind her that she isn’t good enough either and at this rate she never will be.

“Yeah,” Soul nonchalantly says, unaware of the trees stirring and rustling within her soul. “That’s kind of why I went into coding, because it comes easily and I usually don’t really have to try. Frees up time to focus on other stuff I’m not as good at.”

“Such as?” she prompts.

He shrugs. “Music. My relationships.”

She’s surprised that they’ve actually never discussed this in depth before. He mentioned once in passing that he played some sort of instrument, but they’ve never talked about the second topic at all, and it’s so vague that it instantly piques her curiosity and she just has to bite. “What, you mean you suck at networking?” she asks half-jokingly, seemingly forgetting about her mantra to keep personal and professional separate.

“Sure, but I was talking about my love life.” He chuckles more weakly than the last time, pauses, and then replies, “My girlfriend just broke up with me yesterday.”

Maka is quiet as this information sinks in, and then before she can stop herself she looks straight at him and sincerely says, “I’m really sorry, Soul.”

“Meh, it’s not your fault.” He shrugs and it looks like the smile he’s giving her is a little bitter, but before she can analyze it any further, the waiter has chosen the perfect time to interrupt and appear with their food, announcing the names of the dishes before slowly and carefully placing the two steaming bowls of ramen on the table one after the other.

“Ah, smells great as always,” Soul says with a grin as he takes a big whiff and grins at her, his mood seemingly having done a complete 180. “ _Itadakimasu!_ ” he says before digging in.

“ _Itadakimasu_ ,” Maka responds, following suit. “I didn’t know you spoke Japanese?” she asks as soon as she’s swallowed.

“I know a little,” he responds with his mouth still full. “My mom is Japanese.” Thank goodness Maka had finished chewing, because before she can stop herself her mouth drops open in surprise. “Bet you couldn’t tell, huh?” Soul grins, maybe even a little proudly, at her reaction. “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, I got all my genes from my dad so I look pale as fuck. What about you? After all, ‘Maka’ is Japanese, isn’t it?”

“You’re right,” she replies, sipping some of her broth and wondering why she hasn’t come here more often; the food is delicious and leaves a nice warm feeling in her body. “My mom is Japanese too, and my dad’s American. I guess it’s fitting that I look more like him, because I had to stay with him when they got divorced,” she explains, and now it’s her turn to feel a little bitter.

Soul peeks up at her from under his bushy white bangs as his head bends over his bowl to slurp his noodles, but then he sits up straight to ask his next question. “Do you mind if I ask how old you were when they separated?”

“Around five,” she answers, and marvels at how easily the answer comes out, and why. She isn’t usually this open, not even with her other friends. “She said it was because she wanted to move back to Japan and Dad wanted to stay here and neither of them were willing to negotiate over it, but I’m pretty sure the real reason is because he was cheating on her with multiple women.”

This time, Soul is the one who pauses what he’s doing, looks up at her, and says, “Damn. I’m sorry. I wish you could have gone with her.”

“Nah, it’s all good.” She gives a small smile and wonders if it looks forced. “She would call me all the time and tell me that she was proud of me whenever I showed her my grades and what I was doing in school, but she pushed me to do better too. Back then, I used to think that if I could get perfect grades in everything, she would maybe come back.” She laughs. “But I understand the reasons why she couldn’t bring me with her. I’m over it now.”

“That’s really good to hear.” Soul nods. “I’m glad your mom was really supportive even if she couldn’t physically be there–” and she thinks she hears a twinge of jealousy in his voice.

“Well after all, my dad was the one who actually ended up raising me and having to deal with me, so.” She chuckles. “What about your parents?”

Soul is back to sipping his tea, his ramen almost done, and she wonders how the heck he was able to finish it so fast. “Well, they’re separated now but I kind of wish they’d done it earlier instead of ‘trying’ to make it work for my brother and I,” he sighs. “Dad was pretty chill about things, but he was also away for work most of the time. That left Mom to raise us and, not gonna lie, she was pretty savage. Pretty sure if you looked up ‘tiger mom’ in the dictionary, her photo would show up,” he adds with a deadpan expression.

Maka kind of wants to laugh at his answer but isn’t sure if it would be considered rude or inappropriate, so instead she settles for the safe choice and asks, “What do you mean?”

“You know, really strict, never settling for anything less than A-pluses and being number one, putting us into piano and violin and making sure we practised everyday, never letting us go out with friends.” He pauses for a sip here before continuing, “I remember when I was in first grade, I had a bunch of awards and certificates from school and some piano recitals – nothing too major, but well, I was proud of them. And she ripped them all up because I was being a little shit one day and refusing to study.” Her mouth drops open and he chuckles, as if her reaction proves his point.

“I’m sorry,” she says for the second time that night, but he laughs.

“Hey, again, it’s not your fault. And anyway, I should be the one apologizing. I’ve been bringing the mood down with all this heavy stuff and I don’t mean to sound like I’m trying to one-up you on who had the worse childhood or something.” He shakes his head. “I guess we’re all screwed up in our own different ways, and I just got carried away with meeting someone who seems like they dealt with some really similar screw-ups to me, that’s all.”

“I get that,” she says softly, and she feels the last of her defenses crumble with his words. “And I agree. Especially about the screwed up part.” She chuckles and drinks a spoonful of soup, no longer piping hot but still rich and warm and familiar.

“Oh yeah?” He raises an eyebrow at this and she feels his gaze closely upon her yet again. “Tell me more about that.”

“There’s not much to tell.” Maka shrugs, putting her spoon down. “Sometimes it just feels like I suck at everything. There’s so much I want to do and get done but no matter what it is or how hard I try, I seem to always fall short.” She pauses but Soul doesn’t say anything, so she surges forward and continues, “I always tell myself I’ll do better and work harder next time and things will be different, but it just feels like I’m wandering around in a maze. Except instead of being surrounded by corn where I can just put my left hand on the wall and eventually find my way out, it’s more like I’m trapped in a thick forest and the branches keep tripping and grabbing at me and I can’t breathe or even see the sky–”

“And no matter which direction you move in, the more you get lost, right?” Soul finishes quietly, and she stares at him in astonishment.

“Yes,” she agrees softly. The feeling has always lived with her, but for some reason she kind of wants to cry now as she says, “Sometimes I wonder, what’s even the point of trying in the first place?”

They stare at each other from opposite sides of the table in silence. Maka belatedly realizes that they’re now both done eating, and as she wonders if she’s said too much and moves to ask for the check to save them both from the awkwardness of the situation, Soul finally speaks up and slowly says, “Let’s not do that anymore.”

She drops her hand, almost ready to grab the waiter, and her eyes sharply flick back to his face as she asks, “Do what?”

“Wonder about that,” he responds, and she thinks he looks and sounds tired. “I used to think like that everyday, you know – ‘why do I even try,’ ‘nothing I do matters,’ ‘I don’t deserve to be happy or have fun,’ ‘I’m such a failure’.”

She knows he’s not talking about her, but to hear those words come from his mouth – even if they’re referring to himself – still stings. “None of those things are true,” she says hotly, “and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.”

“I know they’re not.” Soul puts his fingertips to his forehead as if he’s facepalming and rests his elbow on the table, but even though half his face is in shadow she can still see the small smile form on his lips. “And no thanks, if I fight you I’ll definitely lose.” She laughs out loud.

“But seriously,” he continues, “I don’t want you to think those things about yourself either. And I know it’s not easy – hell, it’s a habit and I still struggle with it some days too – but maybe, if we can find it in ourselves to share these kinds of things with each other when we do… Then we can break the cycle and remember that those things aren’t true, and even if they are, then we can help each other improve together.”

“I would like that a lot,” Maka replies quietly, and even though her soup is finished, the warm feeling in her core seems to amplify.

“Me too. I believe we’re not imposters, and that we deserve to be happy.” Soul smiles at her again and holds out his hand, as if they’re shaking on a business deal. “So, partners?” he asks expectantly.

“Partners,” she resolutely answers, and as her hand grasps his she feels, for the first time, as if she’s not alone in the woods.

* * *

Despite the autumn chill in the air, they loiter outside the restaurant for a little bit, talking and laughing as if they’ve got all the time in the world. Maka realizes that for the first time in a long time, she’s thoroughly enjoying herself, despite the deep subject matter that came up in discussion.

“Wow,” she says as she glances at her phone, then turns it around to show Soul. “It’s already past 8:30pm.”

“Yeah, time flies when you’re having fun,” he chuckles, zipping his jacket up. “I’m heading back to the office to grab my ride, are you going that way too?” His eyes narrow and he adds, “I meant to go home by the way, not to go back and do more work.”

“I know.” She laughs. “I’m walking home but it’s in that direction so I’ll head back with you.”

“Cool,” is all he says as they fall in step with each other. “So, you started working for Shinigami ‘cause of BlackStar? That’s pretty cool,” he quips, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah! I’m really grateful that he was able to refer me. Although he did make my first day rather interesting, and not necessarily in a good way.” Maka groans at the memory.

“Is that so?” Soul raises his eyebrows. When she doesn’t continue, he whines, “C’mon, you can’t just say that and then not tell the actual story.”

“Alright, fine, you asked for it.” She lets out a big breath, not out of annoyance but more in wonder at, again, how easy it is to talk to Soul.

“So, you know how I said I met BlackStar in college, right?” Soul nods, and she continues. “Well, he used to call me this stupid vulgar nickname because he knew it pissed me off. I thought he would be over it once he graduated, but clearly I thought wrong and expected too much of him—” Soul chuckles “—because as soon as I got all settled in on my first day, he came over to say hi, and I didn’t actually expect him to call me by the nickname, but he did! His dumb ass actually shouted it at me for the whole office to hear!” Soul fully guffaws at this point and she feels her face heat up at the memory in secondhand embarrassment, but she pushes on. “I almost punched him but I didn’t want to get fired. Anyway, turns out that I didn’t even have to do anything because Liz heard and stormed right over and immediately threatened to write him up for sexual harassment.”

“Oh man,” Soul wheezes. “Wait, did you say _sexual_ harassment? Because of a nickname?!” He turns to face her. “Christ, do I wanna know what it was?”

Maka pauses, unsure whether she should answer or not, but she figures that someone else will bring it up eventually because the story was that iconic, so she might as well be the one to deliver it firsthand. “It was ‘Tiny Tits’,” she grumbles, then before he can react she adds, “And yes, he’s absolutely not wrong about it, but dammit, why would you say that there of all places?!” Her face flares up again, although for a different reason this time, and despite telling herself that she got over it long ago, the fact that she can practically feel Soul staring away in an effort to not glance at her small unsexy chest kind of makes her wish the ground would swallow her up.

For the second time that night, Maka wonders if she’s said too much, but then finally Soul says, “Wow. That’s a pretty dick move.”

“I suppose so.” She sighs. “I mean, we go way back so I know he didn’t mean to put me on the spot like that. And don’t get me wrong, I’ve given him a fair share of insults too. Plus, he apologized right away and tried to tell me that he’s glad I’m working here now and Marie is lucky to have me on her team… But I’m pretty sure he only said that so I wouldn’t try to kill him later.” She smiles drily.

“Nah, don’t sell yourself short.” Soul huffs out a breath into the cold air. “BlackStar might be obnoxious, but he can give credit where credit is due.” He gives her a sidelong glance as if he’s about to divulge a huge secret and and adds, “He’s even said that your bug reports are written even better than Tsubaki’s.”

“No way.” She laughs in disbelief. “Since when would he have had the opportunity to tell you that? Are you guys even on the same team?”

“Don’t have to be on the same team to be friends,” he points out. “After all, you and I are friends, right?” Before she can answer, he adds in, “And anyway, you’re not the only one who had an, uh, interesting first-day experience involving him.”

“Oh yeah?” Maka shoots back teasingly. “Tell me, was your first day as dynamic as mine?” And then, before she can stop herself, she adds lightly, “I never would’ve been able to tell from when I met you on your first day. You’re so… different.”

Soul barks out a laugh. “Different good or different bad?” he asks, and even though his tone matches hers she can tell it’s a serious question.

“Different good,” she says slowly. “To be honest, I got the impression that you really liked to keep to yourself and…” She blushes a little, knowing now how far off the mark she was, but continues, “I thought it was to the point that you really didn’t like anyone period, and that talking to you would be an awful experience.” Her voice rises at the end, as if to ask a question, but really she’s just afraid of hurting his feelings so she quickly adds in, “Even though I’m sure that for people like me, it’s the complete opposite and they think I’m great to talk to, but when they get to know me they realize that I’m not who they think I am and that really I suck.”

Her tone changes to a more certain one as she continues, “But I really enjoyed talking with you tonight. And I realized that first impressions aren’t everything.” She finally notices that Soul hasn’t said anything for a while so she quietly adds in, “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“Ah no, you didn’t.” He scratches the back of his head and sighs deeply. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard something like that before about me – so not cool.” He turns to her and sincerely says, “I’m sorry I wasn’t that receptive during my first day. I guess my resting bitch face is just really strong.” He laughs. “I’m not really a morning person.”

Maka blinks at him. “We met in the afternoon when it was lunchtime.”

“Time isn’t real.” He lets out another snort at her bewildered expression and looks up at the night sky. “Anyway, I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to think like that about yourself, alright? And when you do, it’s okay to say it out loud. Don’t keep it in because that shit can eat you up alive.” He looks back at her and hits a closed fist against his chest twice, _thump thump,_ and even though it’s his own she still feels like he’s knocking on the door to her heart. “Like I said, it’s a bad habit. But we’re in this together now, so you can always confide in me and I’ll confide in you, alright?”

“Sounds good.” She smiles at him, lips closed, and there’s no superficiality in it this time.

“We’ll make it out of the woods together, right?” He gives her a small grin, and as she glances at him she notices that as they walk, they’re so close that their arms brush up against each other, their steps perfectly in sync.

“Right,” she says softly, and inside she feels her heartbeat match the pace, and promises to keep up.


	3. drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: a little bit of explicit swearing from BlackStar in this chapter, plus a potential hint towards a past abusive relationship

“You sure you don’t want some milk?” Soul teases her. “C’mon, it doesn’t taste so bad.”

“Alright, fine,” Maka grumbles and he pours some into her cup of coffee. “But only because you insisted on paying,” she declares.

It’s the afternoon following her impromptu dinner with Soul, and he’s asked her to have a short meeting with him at the Deathbucks downstairs. “Trust me, it’s work-related,” was all he’d typed back when she’d asked him what for.

Now, in the midst of the bustling cafe itself, they’re settling down into one of the tables and she’s opening up her notebook. “Alright,” she says, all business. “What’s up?”

“Well,” he says, just as serious as her, “I figured we should officially establish the start of our partnership.”

“Seriously?” She quirks an eyebrow and feels a little annoyed. “How is this work-related?”

“Hear me out,” he insists. “It’s because everything we do in life, including the choices we make and the thoughts we have, is simply a series of habits. So if we want to change how we think about ourselves, we’re gonna have to create some new ones.” He opens his own notebook and turns it around so she can see.

“What is this?” she asks, her annoyance replaced by curiosity. As she glances at the page, the first thing she notices is there are several boxes with numbers that look like calendars going down the left side of the page, except each box starts with 1 on the top-left “Sunday” and ends with 28 in the bottom-right “Saturday”, and almost all of the numbers are crossed out with an X. Above each box is a simple title – _“Work out for 15 mins”_ , _“Drink 1L of water”_ , _“Read for 20 mins”_ – and to the right of each box is a list of reasons pertaining to each box’s title – _“You’ll look better”_ , _“It’s good for your body”_ , _“You’ll be able to have deeper discussions with other people”_.

“This is my daily new habit tracker,” he explains, slightly sheepish. “It’s based off of a system I saw online. Each number is a day and every day you do your new habit, you get to cross it off. Every day you don’t, you have to write a note why.”

“And it works?” Maka asks, unable to keep the doubt from her voice. It sounds too good to be true.

“Somehow, yeah.” Soul shrugs. “It’s simple, but effective. Every time you feel discouraged, you look at the reasons you wrote down and think of why you originally wanted to make or break that habit. And then once you reach 28, or 50, or whatever other significant number of days, you share your progress with others. Eventually, you’ll have a new habit – and proof of your progress,” he adds, “to shut up that doubtful voice in your head.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she is intrigued. Wordlessly on her own page, she starts drawing out the exact same numbered grid, four rows of seven, 1 to 28. She then pauses and blankly looks back up at him. “What new habit should I start with?” she asks, uncertain.

“Well, how about regularly reviewing a list of recent accomplishments?” he suggests. “You could keep a list up at your desk and whenever you feel unsure about yourself, you can look at that as proof that you deserve to be where you are today.”

“That’s a good idea but I don’t know about making that a daily thing…” She laughs a little at how silly it sounds, then internally asks herself why she thinks that. “You know what, I’ll do that anyway, but not as a mandatory daily,” she concedes, scribbling it on a corner of her notebook as a reminder to do it later.

“Then how about you start off with something like leaving the office by 5:30pm latest?” Soul suggests. “And once you hit 28 days of that, you can change the time to earlier or try establishing a completely new habit.”

“I like that.” She nods, then jots down a few reasons: having more time to read, having a concrete benchmark for knowing when she’s overloading herself, eating dinner earlier and having room for dessert.

“Cool.” Soul grins when she puts her pen down. “And since this is a partnership, I’ll start a new habit too.” He shows her his new grid of uncrossed numbers as well, titled _“Play piano for 15 mins”_. “And in 28 days, let’s come back and see how much progress we’ve made, alright?” he asks.

“Cool,” she mimics him. As they exchange a smile, she takes a big sip of her coffee and thinks that it really doesn’t taste bad at all.

* * *

They’re snacking together at 4pm on a Wednesday when Maka has her epiphany.

Ever since that night out grabbing ramen and the subsequent Deathbucks meeting, the time that she and Soul spend together at work has increased drastically. They now speak at least once everyday over Deathchat – sometimes about work and their feelings of inadequacy, sometimes about other things – and their brief goodbyes to each other have now lengthened to either regular hour-long sessions of working together in the lounge (despite their work never overlapping) or brief walks around the block.

Other people have started to take note. “Maka-chan, are you going to sit with Soul-kun now?” Tsubaki asks one day as she stands up and unplugs her laptop.

“Me? I am! How did you know?” Maka laughs, trying to hide her flustered expression. Then, more seriously she asks, “Did you need me to stay at my desk to help with something?”

“Not at all.” Tsubaki gives her a gentle smile. “It’s no trouble. In fact, Maka-chan, I’m glad that you’re spending time regularly with Soul-kun! Everyone needs a break, and it sounds like he provides you with a lot of stress relief.”

“Thanks, Tsu.” Maka gives a small smile back, but inside she feels a little concerned. She knows that Tsubaki won’t ever question her intentions or spread gossip, but she’s not sure about some of her other coworkers, and if Tsubaki has noticed then it’s not implausible to assume that others have as well.

Now, as she and Soul are sitting together in the lounge, quietly munching on a bag of chips from the kitchen and tapping away at their laptops, she’s slightly conflicted. She knows that having positive relationships at work isn’t just good but also necessary to maintain her professional stature. And, independent of that, she really is glad that she got to know Soul better – she genuinely likes him and, heck, maybe she could even consider him a friend outside of work too, if they had met some other way.

The problem, though, is that she maybe likes him too much.

Maka glances over at him and takes in his appearance – lean frame slouched slightly against the couch while his eyes focus intently on his screen – before diverting her eyes quickly so he doesn’t catch her staring. She feels the beat of her heart skip and stutter a little and wonders what is happening.

No, she knows what’s happening. The furtive glances, the excessive thoughts she has about him, the way her heart involuntarily speeds up whenever he’s around… She’s experienced attraction before, knows what it feels like.

But this time, she will not act on it.

Obviously, she could never run the risk of letting something personal ruin their professional relationship as well as both of their public reputations in the industry. But, Maka considers, even if one of them quit she wouldn’t dare follow her feelings. After all,  is she really attracted to _him_ for who he is? Or is it more of the fact that he possesses an uncommon characteristic like her, that his heritage is half-Japanese?

And even if she is attracted to him for that reason, what if she’s just as easily mistaken about the kind of person he is if who she thinks he is is wrong? She already knows, thanks to her father firsthand, that – to quote her favourite phrase – “men are trash”. What are the chances that Soul is different, that he treats her nicely as a friend but the complete opposite in a romantic relationship? Why put herself in that position?

For that matter, is she herself in a position to be in a relationship at all? Maka shakes her head. No, absolutely not. She’s not ready and probably won’t be for a while – and, based on past experience, no one should have to put up with her or her behaviour either.

No. She’ll swallow any feelings even if it’s the last thing she does at this job.

“Are you okay?” Soul’s concerned voice breaks her out of her reverie. She blinks – thankfully she had just been staring at her computer screen – and glances over at him. Despite his busily typing hands and his eyes being glued to his own screen, he notes, “You look pretty anxious.”

“I’m fine!” she says cheerily, but the way he finally looks up at her makes her think he can tell she’s lying. “Just thinking about what to write next.”

“Do you need some help?” he asks, turning towards her, but before she can say anything else the quiet atmosphere is suddenly disturbed by a, “YOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Maka’s eyes almost roll out of her head as BlackStar seemingly appears out of nowhere, jumps over the back of the couch, and plops himself right between both her and Soul before yelling, “Sup, nerds!” and leaning back against the couch with his arms spread out.

“What do you want?” Soul deadpans, sharing her sentiments, and Maka swears his eye looks ready to twitch out of his skull. “Where are those test specs you promised me, by the w–”

“I see that you two have been spending a lot of time together recently,” BlackStar cackles, completely ignoring Soul’s request. Maka’s insides shrink a little in fear. So she isn’t expecting the next thing that comes out of his mouth to be, “Which is perfect because now I don’t have to repeat myself an extra time! You’re both invited to celebrate my one-year SSL anniversary tonight!”

Soul’s expression changes too, albeit to something more positive. “Damn dude, that’s today?” he asks, then raises his fist for BlackStar to bump. “Congrats!”

“Congratulations, BlackStar!” she chimes in, relieved but also genuinely excited, and ruffles his hair affectionately. Even though BlackStar annoys her to no end, he’s still a good friend, and the fact that he’s been with the company for a year is a major milestone that she’s proud of on his behalf.

“Thank you, thank you,” he says mock royally. “But _will you guys be there?_ ” He turns and stares pointedly at Maka. “Every time I invite you to something, you say no!”

“That’s because every time it’s after work, it’s something with the devs!” She huffs, slightly embarrassed at being called out. “I don’t know them as well as you do. Plus, you guys always drink too much!” she adds indignantly.

“Yeah, well not anymore!” BlackStar says triumphantly. “Now you know Soul” – he pulls the other boy in with a large grin, causing him to sputter – and adds, “And I also invited Tsubaki!”

“What, Tsubaki?” Maka asks in surprise, but it’s lost under BlackStar’s rapid-fire whine of, “C’mon Mak, you never come! We’ll do just drinks and it’s right downstairs at Deathstaurant so you don’t even have to go anywhere and you can leave whenever! Just this once to celebrate my one-year, please!”

She pretends to take a second to think about it, but she already knows he has a point. She may not like socializing outside of work, but she’s not a bad friend. “Okay, fine,” she finally acquiesces with a sigh, and he lets out a cheerful whoop. “Just message me when you’re about to leave. And please go now so I can get some work done.”

“SweeEEEEEEEET!” BlackStar hollers, pulling them both in for a hug. She lets out a surprised yelp and looks over at Soul, who is looking right back at her. As they make eye contact, he gives her a small grin, and she feels a little flutter in her chest.

She wonders what she’s gotten herself into.

* * *

She has to admit she’s having a pretty good time.

Maka has always gotten the impression that most, if not all, of her coworkers are pretty friendly and welcoming – or at least, they were on her first day and continue to be whenever she interacts with them. She’d still kept her standards low, expecting awkward silences after the initial conversation topics had dried out and she’d have nothing else to say. She even braced herself for the worst, sticking to BlackStar and Tsubaki and Soul while spending most of her time on her phone.

Now, however, she finds herself in deep discussion with Liz and Kilik as they dissect a recent book-turned-movie they’ve all read. At the other end of the table, BlackStar and Soul are advising Tsubaki about local places she can take her brother to when he visits from out of town, while Patty is preoccupied with a game on her phone but chimes in occasionally. From time to time Maka catches Soul’s gaze and they exchange a smile. She’s glad that BlackStar hasn’t invited too many people, and that she’s getting the chance to indulge in a common interest with some new acquaintances.

Eventually, as their current conversation reaches an end, Kilik takes a sip of his drink and casually asks, “So, Maka, you only joined SSL a few months ago, right? What were you doing before then, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Ah, there it is, the inevitable question. “I worked at a health-tech startup,” she replies. “I also did some client outreach for them. It was my first job out of college.”

“Oh, really? That’s pretty neat.” Kilik nods. “Which startup?”

“Arachnophobia,” she says, and she swears she can physically feel something change in the atmosphere the moment the word leaves her lips. In fact, she’s pretty sure that Liz is giving her a strange look now; her face is so blank that it seems like she’s intentionally trying to keep it that way.

Kilik, on the other hand, merely chuckles warily. “Damn, that place? The one with Ara Gorgon as the CEO, right?” She nods. “I’ve heard a couple of things about them, and none of it has been very nice. What was it like working there?” he asks.

Hearing that she’s not the only one who feels that way about her former employer makes it a little easier to open up. Maka truthfully responds, “It wasn’t that great. It’s smaller than SSL but there was a lot of favouritism and gossiping going on, and the person I worked under was a huge micromanager.” She shudders at the unpleasant memory. “I like working with you guys a lot better.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Kilik sighs. “My friend is at a company that worked with them, said she got bad vibes from all their reps and that their business practices aren’t very sound either.” He raises his glass a little in an informal toast. “We’re happy to have you at SSL.”

“Yes,” Liz finally speaks up, slightly raising her glass as well. There’s a smile on her face, to Maka’s surprise. “It’s great to hear you’re liking your time here so far.”

“WHOA whoa whoa, are you guys toasting without us?!” BlackStar’s voice is clear from across the table, and as Maka turns to face him she sees that everyone else is looking at them as well.

“Course not.” Kilik gives a huge grin. “Congratulations, BlackStar, for having worked a year at SSL! And for the rest of us, no matter how long we’ve been here for, I’m honoured to work with you all.” He holds his glass up again. “Cheers!”

“Cheers!” the group choruses back, and as they all drink, Maka can’t help but feel honoured too.

* * *

They’re splitting the bill when the devil herself shows up.

“Maka, is that you?” she hears, and she recognizes the voice even before she looks up. Her blood runs cold, but under the guise of normal civility she still stands up.

“Good evening, Medusa,” she chirps back with a polite smile. “How are you?”

“Fine!” her old manager answers excitedly. “How are you?” Her gaze wanders to the rest of the group – a few people are still busy working together to calculate prices but most of them are looking up and watching the interaction. “Are you out with your friends?”

“They’re my coworkers, actually.” Maka gives a thin smile but hopes it looks real.

“Why, hello! So nice to meet the people from the company that stole Maka from us!” Medusa gives a large laugh, but no one joins in. Instead, everyone at the table is staring at her now, and Maka wishes the ground would swallow her up. Unperturbed, Medusa turns back towards her and states, “I’m surprised you’re out at this time actually – you worked such long hours back in the day. Are you starting to slack off now?” She chuckles as Maka stiffens at the comment and feels the woods in her mind slowly begin to unravel, but Medusa doesn’t seem to notice as she continues, “I was here having dinner with a coworker as well. You remember Riko, right? He joined shortly before you left?”

“Yes, I do.” _Unfortunately_ , she wishes she could add out loud.

“It’s too bad that you two didn’t get a chance to work together for longer.” Medusa gives a sigh, then behind her she calls out, “Riko, look who I found!”

“What is it this time,” a bored voice calls out, and up to the table walks a tall man with spiky brown hair and several piercings. His attention is originally centered on his phone in his hands, but when he looks up and sees Maka he says, “Sup, squirt.” Then he takes in the rest of the table, and his grin turns devious as he calmly says, “Hello, Liz.”

Maka’s mouth drops open as she turns to look at the blonde. “Do you two know each other?” she asks.

“We do,” Liz finally speaks up in a level tone, but her eyes don’t move away from Riko. The strange look is back.

“My, what a small world–” Medusa begins, but before she can finish her sentence Patty has moved to stand behind Liz with her hand on Liz’s shoulder, and she’s facing Riko and clearly yet slowly saying, “Get your punk bitch ass outta my sight.”

“What’d you say to me, you little shit?” Riko’s eye twitches and in a second he’s gone from looking smug to murderous. Maka is glad the rest of the restaurant is so noisy and that they aren’t causing a scene, but the lack of external attention to a potentially dangerous situation also makes a bit of panic rise within her.

“You heard me, you no good, deadbeat asshole–” Patty’s enunciation rings loud and clear on each syllable, and Maka takes a preemptive step forward, legitimately afraid for the younger woman's safety as Riko looks ready to jump her.

“Riko, please.” The pleasant look is gone from Medusa’s face as she cuts Patty’s string of insults off, and she’s glaring daggers at both of them. “Why don’t you go wait outside,” she suggests to Riko firmly.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he practically spits at her, but restrains himself. He snarls one last time at the group and, looking directly at Patty, yells, “At least I ain’t a fuckin’ affirmative action hire.”

“Giriko.” Medusa’s voice is dangerously low, and he finally whips around and stalks out of the restaurant. She turns back to the stunned group with a wide smile and, in a cheery voice completely opposite to her previous tone, says, “I am so sorry you all had to witness that.” Then, turning to Maka she says, “Maka, dear, we do have to catch up some time. You’ll have to tell me all the ups and downs of your new job.” Somehow, her smile gets impossibly bigger as she ends with, “And remember, whenever you’re unsatisfied with your new company, we’d love to have you back.”

“O-okay.” Maka gives the falsest smile she thinks she’s ever mustered; it’s the only thing she can do with the leaves in her mind crowding her vision, making her feel like it’s hard to breathe. “Have a good night, Medusa,” she finishes weakly.

“Goodnight! Lovely meeting you all!” And with a final wave, her old manager is gone, leaving the group in silence.

Eventually, BlackStar is the first to speak. “Alright, what the fuck just happened?” he demands, looking at Liz.

“Liz, are you okay?” Tsubaki asks more gently. Their office manager looks pale but manages to nod as Patty rubs her arm and quietly murmurs, “It’s okay, sis, he’s gone now.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Liz finally lets out a huge breath and puts a hand over Patty’s. “Giriko is my ex-boyfriend. He wasn’t… very nice, to me or Patty,” she adds.

“He can eat a dick,” Patty says flatly. “He’s just mad that a girl can code better than him and gets paid more to do it, too.”

Maka is shocked, both at the news about Giriko as well as the realization that Liz and Patty are related, and suddenly everything makes sense. “Yeah, he wasn’t very nice to work with, either,” she quips quietly after a few beats of silence. “But he got away with pretty much everything because he was the boss’ favourite.”

“Nice is a serious understatement.” Soul finally speaks up. “Are you okay, Maka?” he asks, and she realizes that she’s nervously clenching and unclenching her fists, feeling lost again. “No offense, but it sounded like your other old coworker wasn’t that great either,” he adds, and she realizes he’s trying to divert attention away from Liz, who looks more upset by the second and is being quietly comforted by Patty.

“Yeah, what the fuck?!” BlackStar looks pissed off as he recalls Medusa’s words. “‘Starting to slack off now’... Does she even _know_ who you are or what your work ethic is? And ‘whenever you’re unsatisfied with your new company’ – hah, didn’t she ever realize how miserable you were working for her?”

“Was that your old manager?” Kilik asks, and Maka numbly nods, too embarrassed to say anything more. “She sounds like such an encouraging leader,” he says sarcastically.

“Kilik’s right,” Soul agrees. He puts a hand comfortingly on Maka’s shoulder. “You don’t need someone like that in your personal or professional life.”

BlackStar stands up. “If I ever run into either of those clowns again, I’ll fight them,” he says seriously, looking first at Liz then at Maka. “No one fucks with my friends.”

“Thank you, you guys,” Maka slowly says. She had expected her coworkers to simply brush off the comments about her or, even worse, think they were true and prepare to bring it up with management. But seeing their solidarity – in Tsubaki’s comforting smile, Soul’s hand still warm on her shoulder, and everyone else’s nods of agreement – makes her realize that maybe, she’s not the one in the wrong this time.

The woods in her mind thin out, and she feels like she can breathe again.

Turning towards Liz, who looks a little calmer now and is also saying her thanks, she repeats Patty’s statement. “Giriko can eat a dick,” she says, and as Liz laughs and the uneasiness in both herself and the air slowly dissipates, she thinks that maybe it’s okay to let people in sometimes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you’d like to learn more about the “daily habit tracker” method that Soul was talking about, feel free to do so [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/getdisciplined/comments/1x99m6/im_a_piece_of_shit_no_more_games_no_more_lies_no/cf9dz72/).
> 
> a lot of people have reported success with this method, so if there’s a new daily habit you’re trying to implement, please try it out and let me know how it works for you!
> 
> thanks again for reading so far! :)


	4. snack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: again, a little bit of explicit swearing

Slowly but surely, Maka notices a change.

One X, then two, then a whole row appear over the numbers that she had drawn during that one afternoon at Deathbucks. She starts making it home regularly before 6pm.

Throughout the workday, whenever she feels a shadow of self-doubt, she looks over at the list on her cubicle wall for a small boost: _“Helped Tsubaki with 5 support tickets and she thanked me with some baked goods”_ , _“Wrote 12 articles last week”_ , _“Finished writing the release memo and got complimented by Marie on it”_. Sometimes, it doesn’t really help and she thinks she could have done even more. But sometimes it does.

She can’t tell how much of it is due to the conversations she has with Soul about her insecurities, the daily habit calendars, or the questioning she now gives herself whenever she has a negative self-thought, but the forest within her head now feels less hostile and she doesn’t feel so trapped.

She even tags along the next time her coworkers go out after work, despite there being no special occasion, and gets the opportunity (or rather, the misfortune) to witness a drunk BlackStar and Kilik get into a rap battle which then devolves into them making recordings for their “next mixtape”.

And she starts regularly drinking her coffee with a little bit of milk.

* * *

One day, things feel drastically different. Maka can’t tell whether it’s because Soul is visiting her desk in the morning, or because he’s wearing a matching blazer and dress pants.

“Wow, you’re dressed up,” she notes, eyebrows raised. While her own outfits tend to regularly be on the dressier side – today she’s wearing a matching purple blouse with purple flats and a black skirt – in all the time they’ve worked together Soul has always come to work in the standard dev fanfare of hoodies, T-shirts, jeans, or sweatpants. Still, she has to admit that he cleans up really well. Like, _really_ well.

She internally screams at herself to stop staring.

“Yeah, got a product presentation later this afternoon, so I figured I’d come over and hang out now since I probably won’t come back to the office after,” Soul responds, setting an apple down on her desk. She had recently tried to convince him to make his next new habit “eat one fruit/vegetable a day” but he had refused. Nevertheless, she does find him eating more from that food group overall now.

“But you’ve done product presentations in your regular clothes before,” she points out, dragging her eyes back to her monitor. _Don’t stare don’t stare don’t stare—_

He merely shrugs. “Sounds like the client this time is pretty corporate, so Kid wanted us to dress up just in case.”

“Wow, Kid’s going too?” she asks, looking back up at him in surprise. Must be a pretty big client – Kid is their CTO and Shinigami-sama’s son, and even though Maka doesn’t know him that well personally, she knows enough of him professionally to fully believe that nepotism does not run in the company. Despite his young age, Kid is a force to be reckoned with.

“Yeah. To be honest, I’m a little nervous.” Soul chuckles and comes around to stand behind her. “What’re you working on?” he asks, peering curiously at her screen as he takes a sip from his mug.

“Just helping Tsubaki keep an eye on the support queue since she’s in a meeting.” She picks up the apple and takes a small bite, relieved that he’s moved out of her direct line of sight.

“You guys should really hire another person,” he mutters quietly. “It’s not your job.”

“I know it isn’t. I just feel bad for Tsubaki sometimes,” she responds just as softly.

“Yeah, well, it’s not fair to you especially if it’s interfering with your own work.” She feels him frown. “Both of you should talk to Marie about it, especially if she’s getting overwhelmed too. Otherwise, the load will only get worse in the future when we grow.” He adds, “Don’t let yourselves be taken advantage of.”

“Alright, boss.” She rolls her eyes but also smiles. She knows Soul’s career advice is coming from a good place. “Will you let me get back to work now?”

“Yes, boss,” he says just as mock-seriously as she does. Then without warning, he leans over her, causing her to catch a whiff of his scent. He must be wearing some sort of cologne, she thinks – it’s something subtly woody yet not harsh or spicy; maybe sandalwood? Either way, she’s so distracted by it that she almost misses how he’s taken a bite out of her apple, or how he smirks at her as he walks back to his desk.

For the rest of the day, she’s distracted by that last image of him, her mind lost and wandering in a different set of woods.

* * *

Later that evening, she’s leaving the office at 5:15pm, the latest X freshly checked off in her notebook, when her phone rings. Maka fishes it out from her pocket along with her hands, wincing when they come in contact with the cold windy air, but then promptly forgetting the sensation when she sees the screen.

It’s an incoming Deathchat call from Soul.

Her heart leaps against her will – they’ve never spoken over the phone before because even when they don’t see each other in person at work, they use instant messaging. And although they interact daily, aside from premeditated plans Maka makes no attempt to see or contact him outside of business hours.

Because even though he’s a friend, he’s still a friend from work, and she’s afraid of what might happen if she starts treating him like something more than that.

“Hello?” she says, finally picking up the call.

There’s a beat of silence, and then, “Hey.” Soul’s voice sounds gruffer over digital media, but she can’t tell whether it’s because of her spotty data or because of something else.

“Are you okay?” she asks, then frowns. Where had _that_ come from? She had _not_ meant to say that, at least not right away.

The silence returns and Maka wonders if the connection is lagging or, even worse, if she’s somehow offended him. Before she can ask whether he’s still there, she hears him sigh. “No, I’m not,” he responds wearily. “I need someone to talk to.”

“Then talk to me,” she says. Worst case scenarios jump to her mind. Did something go wrong with the presentation? Was he fired? Is he physically hurt?

Silence comes through again and she realizes the reason for that is new: because Soul is hesitating. “Can you meet me somewhere?” he finally asks, then sharply sucks in a breath and quickly backtracks with, “Actually, never mind, I’m sure you have other plans and I didn’t mean to bother you with something so trivial—”

“Soul, it’s okay.” He shuts up instantly and Maka wonders what the heck is going on. “It’s obviously not trivial since you brought it up.” Normally he’s the calm and level-headed one but now she hears something new in his voice. She thinks it might be desperation and she doesn’t like it. “What’s wrong?” she asks gently, although on the inside she’s doing her best to keep herself from panicking.

This time he’s silent for so long that she wonders if he’s hung up. Finally Soul flatly says, “You’re gonna think I’m stupid if I say it out loud.”

Maka relaxes a little; if he thinks that then it can’t possibly be someone’s death, or an actual emergency where she has to call the cops. “Then in that case, I’m gonna think you’re stupid regardless of whether it’s on the phone or in person.” She can’t resist the jab, but it works out in her favour because he laughs.

“Don’t worry, I’ll still meet you,” she adds, her tone gentle yet serious again. “Just tell me where.”

“Cool.” Soul is quiet again too, as if she’s reprimanded him for doing something wrong. “Did you just leave work?” he asks. A second later, he says, “I sent you the address for something nearby.”

“Sounds good,” she says. Then, before she can change her mind, she adds, “Hang tight, Soul. We’ll make it out of the woods together, right?”

Silence fills the space between them again, but then she hears him take a breath. “Right,” he finally says, and this time he doesn’t sound as lost. “Thank you, Maka,” he adds quietly.

“Hey, we’re partners after all.” She smiles and hopes that, somehow, it reaches him through the phone. “See you soon.”

* * *

Death’s Little Brother is a nondescript yet somehow charming hole-in-the-wall cafe that’s 10 minutes away from the office. Maka has never been inside before but she’s heard both coworkers and friends rave about it, despite the strange name. Now, as she enters for the first time, she can maybe see why – the lighting is a little dim yet warm, the atmosphere is cozy, and the coffee smells amazing.

She spots Soul in the back, not at a table but in a relatively secluded corner where some armchairs and couches have been laid out around a coffee table in a family room-style setup. He stands up when she approaches, back in his usual outfit of leather jacket and jeans. “Hey,” he says, and she knows then that what she heard in his voice earlier on the phone wasn’t merely due to call quality.

He’s upset.

Before Maka can ask what’s wrong, he gestures back towards the front counter she’d passed by on her way to him. “Do you want something to drink?” he asks. “I didn’t order yet. It’s on me, since I called you out here.”

She makes up her mind quickly, then asks, “What’re you going to get?” in return.

He shrugs. “My usual. Just a mocha.”

“Alright.” She turns around and can feel his shocked stare as he loudly calls, “Hey, where are you going?”

Maka stops, but only to look back and respond, “To order. It’s on me.” She flashes him a quick smile. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I feel like I’d be a huge jerk to make you pay in this situation.”

Soul looks like he wants to argue. “Then I’d feel like the jerk,” he mumbles. “It’s not cool for a guy to let a girl pay, you know.”

“Okay, there are a lot of things wrong with that sentence,” she responds firmly but lightly, “but one of them is that outdated concept is only supposed to apply on dates anyway.” She can’t believe the words coming out of her mouth without her thinking as she raises an eyebrow and jokingly asks, “Is this a date then?”

Something changes in Soul’s expression, but finally he chuckles and sits down, conceding defeat. “That would make for a really shitty date with what I’m about to tell you,” he says, sinking back into the armchair. “Thank you,” he adds, closing his eyes.

Five minutes later, Maka returns with two large ceramic teacups, a mocha latte for him and a plain black coffee for her. He thanks her again and takes a long sip, not seeming to care about the latte art made by the barista. She smiles, recognizing the normal him again in that familiar action that she’s seen him make before in the office, and takes a sip from her own cup.

She’s surprised. Everyone is right; the coffee here is really good and she can taste the richness and bold flavour right away, with no underlying bitterness or stale taste. It’s truly a warm comfort from the cold weather outside.

And yet, it still feels like something is missing.

“How is it?” Soul asks, carefully watching her. A third of his cup is already gone, it looks like.

“It’s really good!” she answers truthfully. “But…” Oh man, he will never let her live this down. “I think I’m gonna add some milk,” she finishes sheepishly. She runs back to the front counter as he breaks into a fit of laughter, which unfortunately doesn’t seem to decrease in volume even when she’s across the room.

“Shut up,” she finally mumbles when she gets back to her seat, unable to meet his eyes, although secretly she’s glad that he doesn’t seem as despondent as he was before.

“Looks like I’ve influenced someone’s preferences, huh?” Soul teases her. If she had a book she would toss it at his head, but as it is she just glares at him behind her cup.

“You know,” she starts defensively, “it’s not that I _hate_ mixing stuff into my coffee. It’s just that black coffee is healthier.”

“Really now.” Soul raises his eyebrows as if in doubt. “Somehow I feel like the studies claiming that are inconclusive.” He pointedly takes another sip of his hot chocolate with a hint of coffee in it.

“Yeah, well, come back and say that to my face when I live a few years past you,” she jokes. “And anyway, when’s the last time you’ve seen a girl drink black coffee, huh?”

She watches Soul open his mouth, pause in thought, and then close it. “Huh,” is all he finally says. “I can’t remember so I guess it’s been a while.”

“Exactly.” Maka takes a sip. “But you know, women can drink black coffee too! And I want to prove it.” Half jokingly she adds, “I’m a strong independent woman who don’t need no milk, cream, or sugar.”

“Maka.” Soul chuckles, but it doesn’t sound condescending at all. “You know you don’t have to drink black coffee to prove anything about yourself or your independence. If someone can’t recognize that about you right away, then they don’t deserve to be in your life.” He looks at her with something in his eyes, but she can’t quite place what it is.

It makes her feel warm inside, just like the coffee.

“I know that!” she says, trying to brush off the feeling. “But anyway—” she puts her cup down and turns towards him “—we’re not here to talk about me.” To be honest, ever since she got that first call from Soul, she’s been madly curious to know what’s weighing so heavily on his mind. Yet at the same time, she’d told herself that she couldn’t rush it with her usual restlessness – Soul would let her know when he was ready.

For him, she would be patient, no matter how long it took.

“Right.” Soul gives a huge sigh. “The presentation today.”

“Did something happen with the client…?” she asks, already expecting that much but still slightly afraid for him. If such a high-profile client had been made unhappy, even if it wasn’t necessarily Soul’s or their company’s fault, that wasn’t a good sign.

“No.” Soul frowns. “Well, yes, but not… professionally.” He sighs again. “What I’m trying to say is, one of the reps from the client company was… my ex.”

“Oh.” Maka blinks. She had not been expecting that. “I’m guessing you guys didn’t end on good terms, huh?” She pauses, hoping that she isn’t intruding on a boundary of his, and then slowly points out, “Actually, now that you mention it, you never told me why you guys broke up in the first place.”

Soul on the other hand looks completely unsurprised. “She moved away.” He runs his fingers through his hair as he blankly continues, “Said she wanted to try something new and do more adventuring, and it wasn’t the right time to settle down yet.” He glances downward as he adds, “She didn’t even want to try long distance.”

“I’m sorry, Soul…” Maka says softly after a moment. She wishes so badly that he didn’t have to hurt, but knows time is the only real way to mend a broken heart. “How long were you guys together for?”

“Five years,” he answers, and her mouth drops open in shock. “Five long years,” he adds bitterly, “and our relationship wasn’t worth holding onto.”

“How did you guys meet…?” she asks slowly, afraid of ticking him off more but too curious to stop.

“We met a long time ago, when we were kids.” Soul stares straight ahead as he speaks, but his eyes look as if he’s transported to another time and place. “She was a family friend and we did music lessons together, although she never really liked them and sucked.” He cracks a small smile in reminiscence. “Her parents were strict and overprotective too, but way more than mine ever were, and they weren’t even Asian at all. It drove Ana crazy.”

“Ana.” Maka tries it out herself. “Is that her name?” she asks.

“Yeah. Short for Anastasia. She preferred to be called Anya but clearly I didn’t listen.” Soul lets out a big breath and she commits herself to strongly disliking this person on his behalf. So she’s slightly surprised when he himself admits, “I used to hate her when I was younger actually.”

“Why? And what changed?” She hates how intrigued she is.

Thankfully Soul seems open, or at least willing, to talk about it. “She was so goddamn annoying, always having an insult to make or talking to you like you owed her a favour for being in her presence. And she had no tact or filter whatsoever. That got her in so much trouble and it was just as entertaining watching it every time.” He laughs at some memory she can’t even imagine.

“But then we went to the same middle school and spent a lot of time together,” he continues, his voice losing its hostile edge. “We bonded a lot over having the same issues with our parents. We could chill in the same room for hours, doing completely different things and not talking, and yet her company would still be enjoyable.” His voice becomes quiet. “She liked hanging out with me when no one else did.”

Maka’s heart pangs, seeing him hurting and so vulnerable, so unlike how he usually is: calm and cautious yet encouraging. “Is that how you guys got together?” she asks just as quietly.

“I guess it was,” he responds tiredly. “But it didn’t happen until we were in college. She was the one who made the first move, and after that it just made sense to officially be exclusive together. I guess she could tell how obvious my feelings for her were, and how I was so pathetic that I’d never have the courage to confess to her first.” He laughs, then adds bitterly, “I wish she had never said anything. Perhaps things would have been better that way.”

Maka wants to tell him not to say that, but she feels like it isn’t her place. Instead, she switches topics and slowly asks, “So what happened when you saw each other today? Was that the first time you saw her since the breakup?”

“Yeah.” Soul looks like a wounded puppy again. “When I saw her, I had to step out for a second, but she looked as surprised as I did.” He laughs again, and she hates it. “I was so shocked that I don’t even remember what I said for the presentation. It must’ve gone okay though because Kid didn’t say anything to me.”

“Did she say anything to you?”

“Yeah. She… asked me to go out for lunch with her after.” Soul visibly winces as Maka’s mouth drops open.

“Soul! You’re not supposed to establish contact with your ex until long after you’re both over each other!” She sighs at the sure recipe for disaster but, despite this, still demands, “And then what happened?!” Maka is basically hanging onto the edge of her seat but she _needs to know_.

“Well, we caught up a little. She told me about her new job and how living in Seattle is like. Said she thought I’d like it.” Soul shrugs and, looking away, picks up his coffee cup. “It sounded like she’s really enjoying herself there.” He doesn’t say anything else as he takes a sip.

“...That’s it?” Maka finally asks, trying to hide the relief from her voice. To be honest, she had expected something much worse, like a full-on fight breaking out and them causing a scene, or even one of them suggesting they get back together.

(She tries to tell herself that her relief at the latter is purely for his sake only.)

“I guess.” Soul is now moving his cup slowly in a circular motion, watching intently as the thick coffee inside swirls around. “I guess... I just feel like such shit because it sounded like she was completely _fine_.” He sounds choked up. “Like the last five years didn’t mean anything to her after all. Like she’s already moved on and focusing on the next chapter of her life, moving up and trying out new things. And I’m a fucking mess, because for the first time in all the time we’ve known each other I’m alone and I don’t know what to do.”

Maka is quiet for a second to give him time to recompose himself. “Soul,” she finally says, desperate to convince him otherwise, “you’re not a mess and you’re not alone. In fact, you’re great.” She pauses for a second to collect her thoughts, then continues, “We’ve only worked together for a few months now but you’re doing so well for yourself and even giving your own presentations. Even BlackStar says so, and you know he doesn’t say that about just anyone.”

He doesn’t respond and instead just keeps moving his coffee around, so she keeps talking. “Everyone likes you. The devs all enjoy working with you. Kilik and BlackStar would throw hands for you. And you’ve got _me_.” She sucks in a breath, trying to project as much comfort as she can into her voice, because she wants him to know that she sincerely means it. “Sure, we might only know each other through work – and I know none of us are girlfriend material – but we’re your friends.” Her voice softens. “We’ll help you get through this, together.”

The coffee in his hand finally stops moving as Soul eventually looks up, and his eyes look blank.

“Thank you, Maka.” He says it slowly as if she won’t hear him otherwise, and she feels hopeful but then he shakes his head regretfully. “Thank you, but you can stop.”

“What?” She feels like she’s been punched in the gut. “Stop what?” she asks, as a feeling of dread settles in her bones.

“I know you’re only saying those things to make me feel better,” he replies with no emotion, and _oof_ , that hurts. “And I appreciate your efforts, but it’s not worth it.” She winces visibly, and he quickly adds, “It’s not your fault, Maka. It’s mine. I’m not worth it. Because I was never fine on my own.” He smiles sadly.

“What do you mean?” she asks, and now it feels like her heart is sinking.

Soul doesn’t respond right away, but finally he says, “You know, growing up, I was bullied all the time for being too quiet and not fitting in.” He looks up at the ceiling. “I always felt so fucking worthless. But then Ana came along and stood by my side, and she saw something in me. She made me feel worth something, even the worst parts of me.”

He takes a shuddering breath. “She made me want to get better for her, but not because of me. Because she was so out of my league and I was afraid of losing her. So I just faked it until I made it. And then she left anyway, and I’m just a fake as fuck imposter, pretending like I’ve got my life all together. And no one will love me ever again like she did. So what’s the point?” He laughs humorlessly.

Maka finally has enough.

“Soul, shut up,” she says loudly, and punches him in the arm. He yelps in surprise and glares at her but she glares back. “You’re not an imposter. Didn’t you say that to me once? You’re just stuck in the cycle.” His eyes widen at his own words being used against him and he tries to avert his gaze, but she grabs his shoulders and doesn’t stop. “I know, five years is a long time, and I can’t even imagine how painful it must feel to lose someone who was in your life for so long. But you can’t say that everything you learned or achieved in all those years is useless now just because she’s no longer by your side.”

Her glare softens. “You’re worth it. Worth it even if no one else loves you like that, and worth it when they do because I _know_ someone will love you again.” She hopes she doesn’t stutter over that last part, but she doesn’t linger over the thought for too long – she has to keep going until he gets the message, because it’s not just lip service; she really means it. “But if you can’t strive to improve for yourself, then do it for the other people in your life. Do it for me, because you and I shook on a partnership and I’ll be damned if you don’t carry out your end of the bargain.” She can’t help but shake him a little and gives a small smile. “You still deserve to be happy, Soul. And if you don’t think so, then you can confide in me and I’ll confide in you. Right?”

She holds her breath now that her speech is done, and after a moment lets go of him too – she hadn’t realized that she was holding onto him for so long. Had she gone too far and offended him, especially with the physical gesture and in public too? Did what she said turn out to be unhelpful – or even worse, insulting? Would he choose never to speak to her again after all, and revoke their partnership?

But finally, Soul talks. “Right,” he breathes, and as he looks downward she realizes that there are tears in his eyes. She thinks her heart breaks a little.

Silently, she hands him a tissue and holds his arm to show that she’s still there. And for the first time ever, she wishes that they were more than office buddies, just so she could hold him a little closer.

* * *

“Thank you again,” Soul says as they exit the coffee shop, calmer now that he’s had time to recompose himself. He’s still quiet, and Maka can tell that he’s still sad, but she also thinks that she’s done all she can for tonight. After all, only time can fully mend a broken heart.

“Hey, like I said, we’re partners. Being there is the least I can do.” She smiles at him and, despite all things, he returns one back.

The wind blows cold, disturbing the moment. “Are you gonna head home now?” he asks, burying his face deeper into the neck of his jacket. “I can give you a ride – but only if you don’t mind a bike.”

“A bike?” she repeats, and her eyes widen as he gestures to a bright orange motorcycle parked across the street.

Five exhilarating minutes of being pressed up against him later, Maka is taking off her helmet and hopping off in front of her building. “Thanks for the ride,” she says with a smile, as he cuts the engine and disembarks as well.

“Hey, it’s like you said, it’s the least I can do. After all, I was the one who asked you to meet up anyway.” He carefully places the second helmet in the trunk.

She laughs. “There’s no need to be so polite, Soul,” she tells him jokingly. “Otherwise at this rate we’re gonna be thanking each other over and over again forever.” Not that she would mind that.

He grins and responds, “Be careful what you wish for.” Then he turns to face her and, more seriously, adds, “But if you meant it, I was wondering if it wouldn’t be too much to ask you for one more favour.”

“Anything,” she immediately says, seeing how vulnerable he has tonight. Feeling how much she wants to shield him, even though she can’t.

He smiles and this time it looks strained. Finally, he asks quietly, “Would you be comfortable if I asked for a hug?”

She only takes a second to think about it and nod. He opens his arms as she walks straight towards him, no hesitation, finally wrapping her own arms around his torso when her cheek brushes up against his coat. In return, his limbs slowly encircle around her, his chin eventually coming to resting on her head, and she thinks it’s ironic that he’s the one who ends up protecting her from the cold and the wind, instead of the other way around.

“Maka,” he finally whispers. “Thank you so much.”

In the ensuing silence, she takes a breath and inhales a familiar smell – subtle sandalwood, rich yet smooth and creamy, with a little sharp hint of pine underneath. _Just like Soul,_ she thinks. She wishes she could take a little bit and keep it somewhere, safe and protected forever.

 


	5. alcohol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: in case you couldn't tell from the title lol, mentions of alcohol consumption are made in this chapter.
> 
> also I don’t believe anything here is triggering, but I did want to point out that this chapter does contain discussion about some real-world issues, namely related to race and sexuality. I know that people probably read fic with the intention of forgetting about things happening in our world (after all, why limit ourselves with reality when anything’s possible in our imagination, right?), but I thought it would be plausible to write about these discussions while keeping the cast in character and not diverting from the main plot too much.
> 
> that being said, please note that my intention isn’t to preach, push an agenda, or incite any arguments. the discourse is just that, discourse. at worst please consider it a shitty attempt done on my part to bring more representation into the fandom and spread further awareness about issues faced by certain people in the world. 
> 
> this chapter was a freaking struggle to write, and I did my best to thoroughly research other people’s experiences (and gather feedback from people I actually know) when I couldn’t personally relate on a matter. I apologize in advance if you underwent the same issues mentioned here but experienced something very different. if you don’t mind writing a review, I would be very open to hearing about your experience too :)

Maka smiles triumphantly as she glances at her daily habit tracker. It’s been a couple of weeks and she’s almost finished her first card. Somehow, despite her lack of faith, the system works.

She chews on the bottom of her pen, thinking about other habits she might want to implement after this one. As she runs over her daily life in her head, it hits her with startling clarity that she’s already inadvertently created another habit this entire time: interacting with Soul.

She shakes her head and smiles in disbelief. Yes, they’ve been talking together almost every day and hanging out regularly for a while now, but she already finds it hard to remember what her life was like before he was in it.

And yet, she knows that all good things must come to an end.

She glances at the clock. 5:10pm. Soon her work day will be finished and she’ll leave, just like how one day she’ll decide to quit working for Shinigami and will exit the office doors for the very last time. How one day she’ll no longer regularly see Tsubaki, or Black Star, or Liz or Patty—

Or Soul.

She frowns. With the others, she’s sure she can still meet up with them and catch up occasionally, since after all she only sees them every few days (aside from Tsubaki, whom she sits next to) anyway.

But with Soul, things are different.

Briefly, she wonders what might happen to cause such a thing to occur between them. Will he leave the company first, or will she? Will they disagree over something that just can’t be reconciled? Or will they simply drift away from each other, no life-changing event necessary, and lose interest in maintaining their friendship?

She doesn’t want to think about it.

* * *

“Thanks again for coming.” Soul flashes her a grin as he walks up to her. “What did you think of the performance?”

It’s a Friday evening and for once, Maka isn’t home. Instead, she’s at the local bar where Soul has invited her to watch his band perform at an open mic night. She hadn’t even known he played in a band until recently, but ever since their conversation at Death’s Little Brother, they’ve been starting to spend more time together outside of work.

Maka likes it.

“It was great!” She smiles back at him and adds playfully, “So when will you be performing Wonderwall for me?”

“Oh please,” he guffaws, then gestures for the bartender. As he does, he turns to her and casually asks, “You want anything? It’s on me since I asked you to come.”

“Sure.” She doesn’t usually drink alcohol but she can appreciate the occasional cocktail or light beer. “Is this a date then?” She raises an eyebrow.

Soul laughs, but he seems to brush the question off as he avoids her eyes and replies, “It’s whatever you want it to be, Maka.”

They stay nearby since the focus is still on the other acts on stage, and it’s surprisingly quiet around the bar. “Seriously,” Maka says after they have a small toast, “you guys are really good. Even though I have no idea what you’re doing or how those instruments work, it looks like you guys are super in sync with each other.”

“Thanks.” Soul grins. “That means a lot considering we only practice like once a month.” He takes a huge gulp of his gin and tonic before asking, “Wait, so you never did any music at all growing up, right?”

“No,” she answers with a tinge of regret. “I just wasn’t interested in learning and my dad never forced me into any lessons.” She sighs. “I mean, later on my mom said it would’ve been nice if I took up piano, and I kind of regret not learning any music-related skills now, but what can you do?” She shrugs and sips at her vodka lemonade.

“Huh,” Soul responds with surprise. After a second he says, “You never did mention why you didn’t move to Japan with your mom.” He turns to face her fully. “Why couldn’t she take you with her, especially if you wanted to go with her?”

Maka is quiet for a second, but she covers it up with another sip. “I don’t know,” she finally says. “Maybe she thought that growing up in America would give me a better life and more opportunities.” Her voice rises at the end as if she were asking a question, betraying her lack of confidence in the answer. “Or who knows,” she continues more flippantly, “maybe she didn’t want me to live with her because I didn’t look Japanese enough.”

Soul’s eyes widen. “You really think that’s the real reason, Maka?” he asks, and she realizes just how salty she sounds.

“Why not?” She shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. But she can’t help but fix him with a hard stare as she adds, “You know what Japanese people are like, don’t you? They hate anything that goes against the norm. You can’t stand out or else you get shunned.” Looking downwards, she murmurs, “That’s why I always used to wish I could look more Asian.”

“Really?” Soul says, and he sounds even more surprised than before.

“Yeah. I always wished I had more Japanese genes.” Maka lets out a sigh, remembering a lifetime of insecurity steeped in what she identified as versus what other people thought of her. “I loved being in Japan but whenever I visited, I could always feel people looking at me and my white skin, even though I know they were trying to be polite and avert their eyes. And whenever I visited my mom, she would always complain that I didn’t have that tiny figure that other Asians did.” She looks away, thinking of how the comments only slightly perturb her now but stung much more when she was younger.

“And yet, somehow, I still wanted to stay, because my dad didn’t have a clue about anything Japanese, and it pissed me off because it felt like I missed out on so much.” She chuckles but it’s ironic. “Isn’t it funny how that works?”

“You know,” Soul says slowly as she takes a long sip, “that’s really interesting because I kind of felt the opposite way.” Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he continues, “I actually used to hide the fact that I was half-Japanese. To me, it felt like being Asian meant not being… great.” It’s his turn to sigh and look down. “Growing up where I was from, the Asian guys were always considered uncool, or nerds, or virgin losers at school. All the Asian kids got picked on all the time. And people who didn’t realize I was Asian too would tell me a lot of fucked up shit, like how all Asians were ugly and that we’re only good for math.” With shame in his voice, he finishes, “I didn’t want people to think of me like that.”

A long silence settles over them as Maka ponders this new perspective. Finally, she nods and softly says, “I understand.” She slowly begins to recall some of her own unpleasant experiences that stem from being half-Asian in America: how her teachers pronounced her name during roll call, sometimes wrong and always with uncertainty; her middle school friends, commenting on and laughing at the one time she’d brought in a ‘weird’ lunch that was just a store-bought bento box; when guys in high school sought her out because of her “exotic” name before asking her on a date.

Soul jumps in from time to time, either with similar stories of his own or signs of empathy – a glance here, a hand on her shoulder there. Then, they deviate to other related topics, from the awkward get-togethers with the different sides of each family, to the privilege they think they have over other Asians thanks to their light skin. Silently, she muses over how she’s never been able to talk with anyone about these things before.

She wonders again at how Soul has managed to make his way into her life like this.

Before Maka knows it, they’re ordering a second round of drinks – which she’s insisted on paying for – and have another toast. “Here’s to all the shit we’ve been through,” Soul says, raising his glass up to hers. As she grins in return, she thinks that if all of what she went through helped to lead her closer to him, then maybe she can live with it a little easier.

* * *

“So,” Maka says casually at the next lull in their conversation, after Soul wraps up a story involving Ana, “how are you feeling about her now?”

He’s in the middle of taking a sip from her drink and making a face at the taste, but his expression smooths out by the time she finishes her question. “About Ana?” He pauses, then slowly answers, “I mean, I still think about her from time to time, and it still hurts, but… I think I’m getting over it.” He cracks a small smile. “After all, you’re right, Maka. Just because someone or something isn’t in your life anymore doesn’t mean the time you spent with them was a complete waste.”

Maka beams at him in return. “That’s great to hear!” she says, and the fact that she was able to help Soul out adds to the already warm feeling in her body. She acknowledges that she’s pretty tipsy, but she’s okay with it.

“Yeah, I guess it is.” He smiles at her again and she tells herself to _be cool, be cool, be cool_. “But what about you?” he asks, taking on the same casual tone she did.

“What about me?” She blinks, confused. Why did Soul care about her opinion of Ana when they’d never even met before?

“You know.” Soul glances down at his drink, a second gin and tonic, although this one is somehow purple. Finally, he glances back up at her, almost slyly, and elaborates, “All this time we’ve been talking about my love life, but what about yours?” Then in a more teasing tone he adds, “Surely such a wise relationship expert has some experience to back it up.”

Oh. Maka blushes and hopes that he doesn’t notice in the dim light of the venue or, if he does, that she can brush it off as Asian glow. “I’m not an expert!” she protests indignantly to his laughter, then sheepishly asks, “I mean, what do you want to know? There’s not much to tell. I’ve been interested in a few guys before but I’ve only ever been in one real relationship.”

She looks away, slightly embarrassed, but a second later hears Soul’s voice. “It’s okay, Maka,” he says gently. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“No, it’s fine.” She turns to face him again. “I want to talk about it—” and she realizes it’s true. She wants to share this part of herself with Soul. “I just don’t know where to start, that’s all,” she finishes with uncertainty.

“How about you tell me more about the person you were in the relationship with?” he suggests, swirling his drink around. It reminds her of the gesture he made with his coffee cup when they’d went to Death’s Little Brother. She wonders if it’s a habit of his.

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath, then says, “Her name was Tsugumi.”

“...Her?” The glass of gin and tonic stops moving. Soul’s eyes widen just a fraction of an inch, and the rosy tipsy feeling subsides a little. Maka wonders if she’s somehow making a mistake.

“Yes,” she clarifies, soldiering on. “I’m bisexual.”

For a second, it feels like the whole world around them turns quiet. Maka holds her breath, her deepest darkest secret now exposed to the person she trusts the most. In that infinite moment before his unpredictable reaction, she marvels yet again at how much her relationship with Soul has unexpectedly changed from that negative first-day impression. She scrutinizes his face carefully for any sign of a reaction, watching as the recognition slowly settles into his facial features. As it does she wonders if what she thinks of him will change again tonight, albeit for the worse.

After what feels like an eternity, Soul blinks and quietly says, “Cool.” He slowly nods and adds, “That must’ve taken a lot of courage to say. Thanks for choosing to share with me, Maka.” He slightly raises his glass and the relief she feels inside is impalpable.

“Thanks for listening,” she responds, finally able to breathe properly again, and accidentally downs almost half of her cocktail. “You’re the only person who knows.”

“Really, none of your other friends? Not even BlackStar?” he asks, shocked.

She wipes her mouth and shakes her head. “No. It just doesn’t really come up in conversation, and I never felt super comfortable actually mentioning it.” She shrugs. “I guess people also couldn’t tell because we weren’t publicly expressive about it at all.”

“Do you mind if…” Soul seems to struggle with the next sentence, uncertain with the correct words to use, before finally blurting out, “Do you mind if I ask a few questions?” His entire face is flushed. “Of course you can tell me to shut up if any of them are inappropriate—”

“I know, Soul.” She throws her head back in a small laugh, and the tipsy feeling returns about five times stronger. “I know heteronormativity is a thing,” she continues, “and I know you’re curious. But I trust you.”

He’s silent, but the grateful look that he gives her says it all – although really, she thinks, she should be the thankful one. Their gazes lock into place, as if their souls are on the same wavelength, and for a moment, it feels like no words need to be exchanged between them, like they can just share a glance and understand exactly what the other is saying.

Then suddenly, in the distance, the crowd surrounding the stage breaks into cheers. Maka blinks, abruptly remembering the setting of the bar that they’re in. She wonders what just happened, but the moment goes just as quickly as it comes, and then it’s forgotten completely when Soul asks, “So, how did you know that you were also into girls?”

She takes a second to think about the question. “Well,” she says slowly, “growing up I always checked other girls out. I always thought I just did it so I knew how to act and what to wear. I didn’t know I was attracted to girls.” She shrugs. “But I think I was just as open to the thought of kissing a woman as much as a man, and since my dad kind of ruined how I perceived all guys, I even wondered if being in a relationship with a girl would be different.” She chuckles. “I didn’t think it’d ever happen though – after all, who in their right mind would ever develop feelings for me in that way, especially when I didn’t look like the type at all?

“But then Tsugumi came along.” Her voice becomes nostalgic and she looks away, again forgetting the bar and the people in it, transported to a different time in her life. “We met in college when we took the same seminar for our literature course. We would spend all our free time together. When she found out I was half, she even tried to teach me more Japanese and let me practise speaking with her.” Her voice softens and she smiles. “I thought I just loved her as a best friend, but then I started wondering what it’d be like to kiss her. And when I tried to think of her as a sister, I realized I couldn’t.” She lets out a small sigh. “And then, just before I could convince myself to fall out of love with her, she confessed to me.”

Breaking out of her reverie, she looks back at Soul and sees him staring straight back at her with a familiar yet unknown expression in his eyes. She thinks it might be the same look she saw when she had been telling him about black coffee. Before she can dwell on it longer, he blinks and quietly says, “Wow. How long were you guys together for?”

“Just less than a year,” she replies, and even though she still feels tipsy now, the edges of her vision aren’t as rosy.

“Was this a while ago?”

“I guess so? We ended it last year.” She makes a face. “She kept wanting to spend more and more time together, but I had just started working full-time and was always busy.” Her voice gets quieter. “I guess we were just at different stages of our lives.”

Soul looks directly at her, but it’s not the same as the gaze before or even the glance she’s now sure they had exchanged. This time his facial expression fills with something else… definitely not pity, but maybe sympathy? Or even a little bit of tenderness. Whatever it is, it somewhat eases the dull ache in her chest that she hadn’t even known was still there. “I’m sorry, Maka,” he says sincerely, and she only hopes that she had managed to look at him the same way when he talked about Ana.

“It’s okay!” she says, a little too brightly, and takes a large swig of her vodka. “Honestly, I’m over it now. It’s probably better for Tsugumi anyway. I’ve always known that I’m not the right person to be in a relationship with.” She realizes she’s probably babbling, but _man_ does it feel good to get this all off her chest.

“What do you mean?” Soul asks, and he’s back to holding his glass in his hand, swirling his drink – or what’s left of it – around and around.

“Well, you know.” Maka looks down. “She was really kind and considerate, not just to me but to everyone. She always had a smile on her face and would drop everything to help someone. She even set all her time aside when I asked her to help teach me Japanese.”

“She does sound like a nice person,” Soul slowly says, almost cautiously. “But what does that have to do with being in a relationship with you?”

“Because that’s the exact opposite of me,” she says dejectedly, and the ache intensifies. “You know me, Soul. I’m a mess and a half. I couldn’t keep myself together back then and I can barely keep myself together now.”

“You’re not a mess, Maka,” Soul says quietly, staring straight at her.

She laughs, bold under the influence of alcohol. “That just means you don’t know me well enough yet,” she says. Quieter she adds, “Tsugumi knew. And yet, somehow, she was still always there for me.”

It feels like the more Maka says her ex-girlfriend’s name out loud, the more she can see her in her mind, as if it’s a summoning chant. Memories that she thought she’d forgotten and locked up tightly now break free, like Tsugumi kissing her for the very first time, sweet and innocent and followed with a shy yet absolutely joyful smile. Or Tsugumi cheerfully telling her after their third failed language lesson, “It’s okay if we just speak English, Maka. No matter how we communicate, I love you just the way you are!” Or Tsugumi stroking her hair and murmuring to her comfortingly as she cried in frustration at her unsatisfactory grades.

“So.” Soul’s low voice interrupts her thoughts. “If she was always there for you, then why isn’t she here today?”

Maka laughs again. “Why do you think?” she retorts bitterly. “Everyone has a breaking point, Soul. And I just wore her down until she reached hers.”

She tips her head back and downs the rest of her drink, but as she swallows she realizes she also tastes something familiar – the growing sensation of feeling trapped. As if only talking can save her, she quickly continues, “You know, I always asked her why she liked me so much, and she never could give an answer. All she said was that she wanted to be with me.” She laughs bitterly as the truth tumbles out from her lips. “And I couldn’t even give her that because my head was stuck too far up my own ass. Can you imagine, Soul?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, her mental video reel heeds that last question as a command and begins queueing up more memories, one by one. In her mind, she hears Tsugumi’s voice on the phone, easily excited by an event that she wants to bring Maka to, and then quietly disappointed when she asks if they can celebrate another time. She sees Tsugumi’s messages, peppered with emojis and cute stickers, telling her she missed her and asking when she’ll be coming home. She recalls Tsugumi’s frown when she’d told her they couldn’t go out on Friday night after all, because she had to work overtime – and how that frown deepened with every subsequent Friday they stayed in. And finally, she remembers the voicemail of Tsugumi asking her to _please come home, come home soon_ , because inevitably something bad had happened, and she’d finally needed someone, too.

 _But where is home?_ Maka feels lost again, turned around, unable to find her way out of the ship that is her sinking self-esteem. She had tried so hard, and was doing so well, and yet now she’s been dropped back in the middle of the woods again. Her latest escape turned out to be just another failed attempt, and she wants to cry and scream.

And then she hears more than sees the light showing her the way out, when Soul speaks.

“I don’t have to imagine anything,” he says point blank, “because your head’s stuck too far up your own ass right now.” She snaps out of her reverie and realizes that he’s getting up from his seat and is now walking towards her.

“I don’t know what Tsugumi was like, or what you were like when you were with her.” He’s now standing right next to her, his eyes on the band currently on stage, but his voice is clear and she knows he’s talking directly to her. “All I have to go off of is who I know you as right now. And the Maka that I know isn’t a mess.” He gives a shrug. “Sure, she’s not perfect. She’s got some things she needs to work on and some habits she should probably change. But she is nice. Trustworthy. Reliable. Helpful to the people around her, sometimes at her own expense.” Finally he looks at her. “And she’s working on it, even if all she can see are her faults. But—” he takes a breath “—everyone’s got something they can improve, right? And isn’t doing something the best way to get better at it?”

Maka doesn’t answer right away. She meets Soul’s eyes and even though his face looks largely blank, she can tell that this really matters to him and that he’s worried. She blinks and then realizes why – she’s tearing up.

“I’m sorry,” he hurriedly says, voice wracked with guilt and starting to panic as her tears start to overflow unwillingly. “Did I say something wrong? Was I too much of a jerk?” And then, almost as if he doesn’t know what else to do, he asks, “Do you want a hug?”

She almost laughs at his idea of a solution, but in actuality, he doesn’t need to say it twice. She’s practically in his arms before he’s finished his sentence, letting his shirt hide her tears and the background noises of the bar cover up her sobs. And as she loses herself in the light smell of sandalwood, hearing the heavy _thump thump_ of his heart beating against his ribcage, she’s reminded of their very first dinner and how even back then, it felt like Soul was knocking on the door to her heart.

She thinks that, maybe, she should finally let him in.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just some casual comments: i can't express how sHOOK i am to see that no one else has written about Maka and Tsugumi together?? i'm also kinda shocked that i've never seen a fic of Maka being bi/lesbian considering the "all men are cheaters" canon ... if you have any good suggestions to read, please let me know!
> 
> also, i originally started writing about the hapas issue because i learned that Maka is canonically half-Japanese. honestly i just wanted more asian representation in the fandom period - not necessarily with the characters (because most of them are clearly Japanese), but more with subtle traits like the food they eat, the places they visit, their mannerisms, etc. but it felt wrong to just mention "Soul and Maka are half-Japanese!" in passing in ch2 so i looked more into it ... and realized that hapas people deal with a lot more shit than i originally thought. i really hope i managed to portray at least a bit of the hapa struggle adequately in this fic.
> 
> finally, i acknowledge that so much more could've been done with the tsugumi/maka pairing. i'm sad that i didn't get to fully explore the LGBT asian struggle in this fic, but hopefully i can do so in a future story!
> 
> thanks again for reading so far, and i hope you enjoy the last chapter!


	6. coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: LOTS of explicit swearing in this chapter lol

For once, Maka thinks she’s relatively happy in her life.

She completes her first habit tracking card, hangs it up at her cubicle proudly, and starts a second one on exercising regularly. She rarely feels a need or urge to stay at the office after 4:30pm when coming in at 8 in the morning. Despite this, she somehow feels like she’s thriving in her work, and when Marie commends her on her performance during their regular one-to-ones, she believes her.

She continues to go out frequently with her coworkers. Marie hires someone new on their team, a young intern named Chrona, and before Maka knows it she’s practically a mentor and she vows not to let them fall into the same career traps that she did.

And of course, she still hangs out with Soul regularly – perhaps not so much in the office now, but they make up for it outside of work hours. She still enjoys his company very much, even if they’re just sitting together silently. The space between them is closer than ever, and she promises herself that no matter what, that’s the one thing she won’t risk ruining.

But some things, she realizes, aren’t up to her, and there’s nothing she can do about it.

One day, working together in Deathbucks, Soul asks her, “Did you see that email from HR? About our vacation days?”

“Yeah, we have to use them up by June or something – weird policy,” she responds distractedly, eyes focused on her screen as she scribbles in her notebook. She thinks her pen is almost out of ink. “What about it? Are you going to take yours soon?”

“Yeah,” he says. “But I was also wondering what happens if someone needs more days.”

She presses her pen a little harder into the page, wishing she had brought a spare. “You should ask Liz, she’ll know for sure.” Jokingly she asks, “Why, are you gonna go on a long vacation to the moon or something? Have you finally had enough of us?”

“Actually—” Soul takes a deep breath “—I might be leaving soon for good.”

That does it. She stops writing and looks at him. “What?” she asks in disbelief. “But you’ve been working here for less than a year.”

“I know,” he says, and she realizes that he’s nervous, sitting up straight and tapping his fingers rapidly against the table, as if it’s a piano. “Please don’t tell anyone at work. But it’s because Wes wants me to help with his own startup. He asked if I wanted to be a co-founder.”

“Oh.” She’s sad that they won’t get to work together anymore, but happy for him having this opportunity. “But that’s great, right?” she asks. “Unless you don’t want to be a co-founder?” Death City’s tech industry is small but growing, and while establishing a business anywhere is difficult, she knows that here at the very least there are people and resources to help with the process.

“I’m not sure yet,” he admits. “That’s what I was thinking of using my vacation days on. To go visit him in San Francisco for a bit – see what it’s like.”

“San Francisco?” She blinks.

“Yeah.” For once, he looks exasperated. “That’s where the company is based.” And then, as if to add insult to injury, he adds, “That’s where I’ll have to move if I accept his offer.”

“Oh,” she says flatly, unsure of how to respond. Finally, she asks, “Do you think you will?”

“I don’t know.” It’s the first time in the conversation that he sounds certain. “I mean, Cali seems nice. I can afford to move, since I don’t have any major life responsibilities. And I probably should help him out, considering he’s my brother and stuff.” Then, like a punch in the gut, he adds, “Now that I’m done with school here, there’s not much tying me to Nevada. So why not?”

Maka hears something clatter to the floor. As she glances down she realizes that, some time during their conversation, she had subconsciously let go of her pen and it had fallen to the ground. She doesn’t make a move to pick it up, still processing what Soul has said.

She thinks the same thing has happened to her heart, except she hadn’t known that Soul was holding it so high up, and now she doesn’t know how to pick up the pieces.

* * *

Soul takes his two-week vacation a couple of days later. He jokingly tells Maka not to forget about him, and that even if he’s too busy to call her, he’ll buy her a souvenir. She halfheartedly responds by telling him to not come back.

All joking aside, Soul’s absence makes Maka realize just how much he’s a part of her life. The office just isn’t the same without him. Even if they had stopped spending so much time together at work, he was always just a message away, and she still had their evening hangouts to look forward to. Sure, work is work, but he made it fun for her.

At first, she commits herself to enjoying her time at home alone, and she does. By the third evening, however, she feels a sort of restlessness as she finds herself browsing average flight prices and times between SFO and Death City. She thinks one part of it stems from the desire to spend time with Soul before she can’t for good, while the other part comes from the frustration of not being able to because, in a sense, he’s already gone.

Either way, she has to admit that she misses him.

Soul sends her intermittent updates. In between photos of new foods and various places, he also tells her about the operations of Wes’ company. “It seems really promising,” he says in one message. “Things are so different from Death City’s tech.”

She responds encouragingly, but deep down inside she wishes she could tell him to come home, even if it’s not her place to, and even if his home seems to have changed.

* * *

 

Partway through the second week, she’s intercepted by BlackStar. “Yoooo, Mak,” he tells her as she’s walking back from the kitchen after lunch. “Coffee? Deathbucks? Bro time? Let’s go.”

Her first response is to automatically say she’s busy, but in all honesty she kind of wants a break, and it’s been a while since she’s really talked with BlackStar. “Fine,” she says.

She doesn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition.

“Sooooooo,” BlackStar says even before they’ve fully sat down. The cafe is oddly empty for the time of day. “What’s the sitch?”

“The what?” Maka furrows her eyebrows. “English, please.”

“The _situation_ ,” BlackStar emphasizes. “You know, between you and Soul. Are you gonna break a man’s heart and force me to say bye to two close bros instead of one?”

She regrets this already. “What are you talking about,” she responds monotonously. She thinks she unfortunately knows where this is going, but maybe if she just plays dumb he’ll drop it. “There is no 'sitch' between us.”

BlackStar lets out a laugh. “That’s fake news, Mak. I’m talking about when he leaves!” His voice is too loud. “And you following him!” Way too freaking loud, indeed.

“Shut up!” she hisses. Thankfully, the barista seems too focused on her phone and the other patrons appear to have either headphones on or a very good sense for ignoring bullshit. “How do you know about that?” she whispers incredulously. Then, before he can get any stupider ideas, she clarifies, “About him leaving, not me following him! Why would I do that?!”

“Oh, Soul told me the news himself.” BlackStar blinks and sips at his tea almost innocently. “I ain’t his closest bro in the office for nothing, bruh. And therefore, it’s also reasonable to assume you’re gonna follow him ‘cause y’all far surpassed the status of ‘work spouse’ a while ago.”

“What the heck is that supposed to mean.” Maka automatically readies her fist to punch him square in the face.

“Oh, please.” She can tell he’s enjoying this. “It’s pretty obvious that you’re really into him.”

She sighs defeatedly, suddenly remembering that underneath BlackStar’s dumb goofy exterior is a man with infinite attention to the little details. Of course she wouldn’t be able to beat the master of bullshit at his own game. “Okay fine, you got me,” she responds testily, crossing her arms and slumping down into her seat. “So what if I am? Even if I like him in that way, he’s leaving soon and that’s that. And I’m not about to uproot my whole life just for a relationship that might not even work out,” she points out.

“You know what, you’re right,” he agrees, to her slight surprise. “But if he didn’t leave at all it’s not like you would say anything either, right?”

“Of course I wouldn’t!” Maka says fiercely. “Who do you think I am, BlackStar? I’m not about to ruin someone’s career, or mine, just because of some feelings,” she almost sneers.

“You wouldn’t,” BlackStar says carefully.

“Oh, yeah? How are you so sure about that?” she asks challengingly.

“Just trust me,” he replies plainly, and she only blinks at what he’s saying. “No one really cares about that stuff, unless you’re showing major PDA. That, or if you’re dating someone that you manage or that manages you. Because then it’s probably a good idea for HR to know.”

She’s slightly concerned with how much he seems to know about this topic, but before she can probe any further, he speaks again. “Anyway, don’t worry so much about what other people might think when it comes to your happiness. Regardless of whether Soul leaves or not, I think you should let him know. It’d probably be good for you too, Maka.” He gives her a look, and she knows he’s serious, especially when he uses her real name.

“But what’s the point?” She sighs. “It’s just a lose-lose situation. What if that just makes things awkward? Or worse, what if he likes me back?!”

“Fam, you gotta chill.” BlackStar deadpans. “First of all, Soul’s an adult; if he doesn’t like you back that way, he’s not gonna be a little bitch about it. And if he is, then boo-fucking-hoo, he deserves to feel awkward about it.” She almost laughs out loud. “And secondly, you gotta tell me what’s going on through that head of yours, because how the fuck is him liking you back worse than him friendzoning you?”  
  
She’s silent for a second. “You don’t understand, BlackStar,” she finally says quietly. “I’m not the type of person anyone should be in a relationship with.” Yes, she had improved herself a lot lately, but not to that extent. “And I don’t want to hurt Soul, or lose him. That’s all,” she finishes.

“Oh my shit,” BlackStar mutters as if to himself. “Do you consider yourself abusive?” he asks.

“Excuse me?” she asks, stunned. HR or not be damned, she’s seriously about to fight him right here and right now.

“I’m being serious.” He asks again, “Do you think you’re an abusive person?”

“No!” she says indignantly.

“Are you a psychopath?”

“What the—no!”

“Do you have narcissistic personality disorder?”

“I don’t think so?” Finally she asks, “What’s your fucking point?”

“Then my point,” BlackStar answers clearly, “is that it sounds like you’re a completely fine person for anyone to be in a relationship with.” She balks but he continues, “You’re not giving yourself enough credit, Mak. I know you don’t want to hurt anyone and that’s real nice and ambitious of you, but the truth is that’s an inevitable part of being in a relationship, with anybody.

“And I’m not saying that you should go out of your way to antagonize others,” he adds, “because that’s just straight up being a douchebag. But people are gonna get hurt sometimes no matter what. And if you wait for yourself to reach this magical state of perfection where conflict never happens, then you’ll never be in a relationship.”

He takes a sip of his drink. “And that’s the tea, sis.”

Maka is too shocked to formulate a response right away. Finally, she simply asks, “How the heck do you know so much about this shit?”

BlackStar cackles. “Just because I’m a coding god doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings for Tsubaki,” he points out cheerily, standing up as her mouth drops to the floor. “Anyway, I’ve gotta run now, Mak. But let me know what you decide to do, alright?” He leaves.

Maka remains at the table alone for a while, her coffee long gone cold. She moves her cup around and around, lost in her thoughts, watching the liquid swirl in its familiar circular motion. When she finally realizes what she’s doing, she can’t help but smile.

She knows exactly what she has to do now.

* * *

On Sunday, Maka makes her way to Death’s Little Brother with the sense that, by the end of the day, things will change drastically regardless of what happens between her and Soul. She already sees hints of it in the warm weather coming with the spring. Even when she arrives, the cafe has a completely different atmosphere from her last visit, thanks to the light of the afternoon sun.

She finds Soul at a booth this time, headphones in and listening to music. She’s slightly afraid that things will be awkward between them at first, but as soon as she sees him the worry disappears. “Welcome back,” she says with a smile, sliding into the seat as he takes his headphones out.

“Thanks, it’s good to be back.” He grins, then adds, “I got you your drink.” He nods to the covered paper cup on her side of the table.

“Thanks.” She smiles and wants to ask, “Is this a date then?” just for old times’ sake, but she can’t bring herself to do that today.

She’s afraid he might actually give an answer.

Instead she asks, “How was California? You have to tell me everything.”

So he does. He talks about everything in full detail excitedly – the places Wes took him to, all the different kinds of food he’d gotten to try, and the people from other startups he’d met.

He’s talking about the startup itself when Maka asks him the dreaded question: “So, when are you leaving?”

“Well, Wes wants me to come back as soon as possible, but I have to deal with all my stuff here first,” he replies. “So I might give my notice to quit this week and then, depending on the logistics, leave by the end of the month?” She’s noticed that he’s a little fidgety – perhaps he’s nervous at the thought of moving so far in such a short amount of time, or he can predict what she’s trying to say and doesn’t necessarily want to hear it, or he just wants to get their meeting over with and move on with the rest of his life.

So, she thinks, this is finally how it ends. Unless—

“Unless,” he abruptly says, looking straight at her, “there’s something else I need to consider.”

She blinks. What the hell? Did she say that last thought out loud? Where is this coming from? “What do you mean?” she asks.

“Well,” Soul responds slowly, “I haven't fully decided yet.” He looks directly at her. “What do you think?”

She knows that really, Soul is probably asking her for an opinion on the logistics of his departure, but as she meets his red eyes it feels like he’s really asking about something else.

It’s now or never. She tries to remember everything that BlackStar has told her. Taking a breath, she channels every ounce of courage she has.

“Soul.” Her voice sounds surprisingly steady. “I think that I like you, a lot.” Wow, what a start. He blinks. “You’re my partner, after all. You told me that it’s okay to feel like an imposter, and that regardless of my accomplishments, I deserve to be happy. You taught me that first impressions are stupid, and showed me how to change my thinking and my habits to make myself a better person.” She thinks she sees him twitch a little.

“You validated my experiences and my struggles. I never expected someone to understand me so much, but then you came along. Seeing and talking with you everyday has become a habit that I know I don’t want to stop, but I understand if you don’t feel the same way. I just want to let you know that regardless of wherever you go, you changed my life.” She finally takes a breath and ends with, “And that’s what I think. Thank you, Soul.”

And then it’s quiet.

“Thank you, Maka,” he finally says quietly in return. He’s smiling. “I guess I’m staying then.”

“What?” she asks, dumbfounded. Her heart sinks and she wonders if he’s playing some kind of sick joke on her.

“Yeah,” he says casually, as if they’re discussing the weather and not a major life decision that has suddenly changed. “I’m not moving to California.”

“But you just said you were going back by the end of the month…” she trails off. Her brain feels like it’s short circuiting.

“Yeah, don’t get me wrong, Wes probably still wants me to fly out then to meet some more investors.” He gives a shrug. “But I don’t know if being a cofounder is for me, at least not right now, so I told him I would only help with development stuff. And I liked what I saw in Cali, but I think I found something here that I like more.”

He stands up and moves to her side of the table. As his gaze holds hers, Maka is reminded of how he’d watched her when she’d talked to him about using black coffee as a symbol of independence, or when she’d told him about how she’d fallen in love with Tsugumi. Back then, she’d seen something she couldn’t recognize. She thinks she knows what it is now. It’s affection.

He finally reaches her, and as she looks up at him, she asks, “What did you find?”

“You,” he answers, and as he leans down and kisses her, she thinks she’s finally discovered the perfect taste of coffee after all.

**Author's Note:**

> hi again! if you’re reading this you’ve made it to the very end of this fic! THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR READING!
> 
> ResBang 2018 was my very first major fandom event, and it was an actual journey that has me sHOOK. i’ll be honest, writing this thing out was a constant source of stress for me for the last 4-5 months – it led to a lot of late nights and hard mornings, basically obliterated my social life and other hobbies, and is the main reason why i’m so behind that i’m basically still stuck in 2018 lmfao. (fun fact: i was 40 mins late to a wedding reception cuz i locked myself in my friend’s car to make the second check-in deadline lmao ... wild times!!)
> 
> and yet despite this, i don’t regret any of it!!! being in this year’s ResBang has caused me to meet so many people, make a whole bunch of new friends, and exposed me to even more new fanworks than i thought was possible for such an old anime series. participating also let me fulfill one of my major 2018 resolutions – to write fic again and redeem my younger self’s awful writing skills lol – and it also resulted in me writing my first completed multi-chaptered fic.
> 
> so thank you again for helping me to achieve these milestones, and thank you if you’ve made it this far! i hope you enjoyed and continue to enjoy more SE fanworks for a long time to come! ♥


End file.
